


and more than echoes talk along the walls

by valley_pauper



Series: Echoes [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Feedback Welcome, Feels, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Original Troll Characters, Other Characters - Freeform, Past Brainwashing, Slow Burn, Updates Fridays, and relationships, au after sgrub starts, but erisol's the main one, character deaths but not like permanent ones, each chapter will have warnings in the notes, gratuitous use of headcannons, i hope everyone read these and knows what they're in for, my poor attempts at comedy, noncon/dubcon, now with added color!!, or uh the nebulous 72 hour period surrounding fridays, they will allllllll show up eventually, this is my first ao3 fic please be gentle, trigger warnings for:, under-age, will be tagged as they show up, with the occasional 8 month gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 72,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10334969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valley_pauper/pseuds/valley_pauper
Summary: In which Sollux receives a very out of character message from Eridan and encounters something entirely unexpected when he goes to check it out.CHAPTER ONE:Ugh. Looks like he’s trolled you a few more times while you were lost in thought. Should you respond? Nah- you don’t have the energy to deal with the fishdouche right now, and besides, this shitty code isn’t gonna fix itself.It’s only after you're done rearranging the code that you realize that you haven’t heard anything from Trollian for a while.Huh. Weird. Usually it takes fucking hours for ED to get bored enough to go away.You hesitate for a moment, but decide to check the chat. It’s probably only another one of fishdicks’ stunts, but fuck it, you’re curious (and you’re pretty sure it won’t kill you; it’s not like you’re NP, after all).





	1. ==> Sollux: be the douchebag insomniac

**Author's Note:**

> SO.
> 
> Welcome to the long winded mess that is my writing! Glad to see all, uh, two of you here!
> 
> This is the first thing that I've written, let alone POSTED, in years, but I've had this plot bunny floating around my head for so long that I just finally had to write it! Any feed back that anyone reading this wants to give would be FANTASTIC! Just, uh, plz be gentle, kk??? I am a delicate flower and I can only take so much ahahaha
> 
> ANYWAY! Some minor warnings before I start:
> 
> FIRST, I am a complete Eridan fangirl/apologist, so he might seem a bit different in this than he is in canon, but I'll do my best to make it so he's not completely OOC
> 
> ALSO I am a long winded douchenozzle, so let me know if I start getting way out of hand
> 
> FINALLY, I will do my best to keep everyone as in character as possible and keep the plot as coherent and sensible as I can, but a lot of things that happen in this story will occur simply because I want them too, and the rest of the plot has been built around that, so let me know if the story stops making sense!
> 
> I'll shut up now, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux spends another late night at his husktop and receives a worrying message from one of his least favorite trolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much special about this chapter (more of a preview, really), only that I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: minor self-depreciation, swearing, references to canon character death.

**== > Sollux: be the douchebag insomniac**

Your name is SOLLUX CAPTOR, you’re six sweeps old, and you are having a terrible fucking day.

Not that that’s saying much - your whole fucking life has pretty much been one shitty day after another. And it’s exceedingly unlikely that’s going to change anytime soon. You don’t know what shit your ancestors were involved in to justify the karmic hornbeastshit the universe throws at you every perigee - judging by the shit that happens to you they must have helped dominate a galaxy or some shit - or maybe it’s just that you killed your matesprit and this doomed universe is punishing you for that fuck up.

Probably that second thing, yeah. (most of the time you’re positive you deserve the shitty things that always happen to you ( _you’re a terrible person who's done terrible things to trolls who didn’t deserve it you hurt everyone who’s ever gotten closed to you you're a danger to everyone around you gog you don’t deserve to-_ ) but like hell you’d ever let anyone _know_ )

But the rest of your shitty life aside, today’s been a rather spectacular shit-fest all its fucking own. Not that any day has been easy or anything but a gore filled angst-party since this whole fucking game started, but lately everything's been getting steadily shittier and shittier.

Imp attacks have picked up in the last few nights and no one in your group can figure out a reason for it beyond regular game hornbeastshit. The attacks themselves are weird, too - spiderbitch is certain the imps are trying to keep you all separated and isolated on your own worlds. Despite how shit-hive maggots she is on a regular fucking basis, you’re pretty sure she’s right. The imps themselves are as weak as they’ve always been, but lately they’ve been coming in wave after fucking wave. The constant hordes are _fucking exhausting_ and their numbers seem endless.

As such, you and EQUIUS ZAHHAK (shitty horse-fucking robotic genius extraordinaire) have been lovingly _assigned_ by your oh so fucking glorious leader (the _wondrous_ KARKAT VANTAS himself) to the task of working together to make something that'll make it possible for a troll to leave his fucking hive without getting accosted every single fucking time. After several (deeply uncomfortable) pan-storming chat sessions, the two of you settled on the idea of some kind of automated defense system. End goal is some kind of robot that’ll protect your hives and the gates between your worlds from the annoying imp hordes.

The project itself isn’t difficult. You were pretty much the best fucking hacker and programmer in the entire Alternian Fleet even before the fucking mess of this shitty game, and the blue-blooded douchenozzle himself isn’t half bad at his mechanics. He’s making up some robotic creatures that'll hopefully be sturdy enough to take a fucking hit (they're fucking musclebeasts, because of _course they fucking are_ ) and your job is to write the code that’ll get them moving and fighting. Luckily, the code itself is interesting enough you don’t want to kill yourself over the entire shitty experience - but then again it’s not the code that’s running you ragged.

No, what’s making the whole thing exceptionally shitty is everything _else_ that’s going on in your gogdamn life. Being forced to work with the sweaty highblood, KK breathing down your vertebrate stem _every fucking minute_ , two certain royal blooded finfucks (granted, one is waaaaaay more welcome than the other), the fucking death trap of a game itself. Also, every single fucking troll and their lusus keeps running to you crying every gogdamn time they get a single booboo on their fucking husktops. Gog, it’s like someone nominated you as fucking troll IT when this shitty game went online or something (it was KK and _fuck him with a rusty culling fork for it too_ ).

Needless to say, you haven’t had a single gogdamn moment to your fucking self since this shitty project - no, this _entire shitty game -_ started.

So yeah, the last couple of days have been noticeably more shitty than the norm. You haven’t slept in nights, you’re not sure when you last ate, your psionics are buzzing harshly behind your eyes, and the fucking sudden lack of voices in your head is throwing you off in ways you never thought possible. AND you still have to get through the rest of this _fucking code_. FUCK.

Currently, it’s late night, nearly dawn, and you're squirreled away in the relative safety of your hive. Despite the late hour, you’re wide awake, scrolling through your latest attempts at configuring the fucking ROBOTECTORS' (TZ’s fucking shitty name for the things but hey, what do you care) programming into something halfway unfucked.

You are deep into the code, a can of troll Monster sitting forgotten at your elbow and taking advantage of a rare moment of glorious silence with no fucking annoyances grasping for your attention.

When what should happen but your fucking Trollian pings, startling you into knocking your liquid refreshment off your huskstand.

"Fucking thhit!" You shatter the silence with a loud yell of frustration, glaring petulantly down at the mess for a few seconds before rolling your eyes. You switch to Trollian to check out which of your 'friends' (finger quotes _fucking meant_ ) is bothering you now.

\-- caligulusAquarium [CA] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 3:11 -- 

> CA: sol

Well, _fuck_.  
  
If it isn’t your least favorite troll. What fucking _luck_.  
  
ERIDAN AMPORA, the shittiest violet blooded pain in the ass you’ve ever had the misfortune to interact with. In fact, he’s pretty much the shittiest _troll_ , period (he doesn’t have top spot on that list only because most of the time VK is being a massive fucking spiderbitch and oh yeah she fucking made you _kill_ -) you’re getting off topic.

ED’s a fucking pain in your ass, constantly trolling you, trying to get you to participate in some kind of weird black flirtation using some of the lamest taunts you’ve ever seen. He’s an annoying, flamboyant, _persistent_ pain in your ass, and that’s just how he was before FF broke it off with him. Ever since the game started and all that stuff happened between FF and you the fishdicks’ only gotten somehow _worse_.

Ugh. Looks like he’s trolled you a few more times while you were lost in thought. Should you respond? Or maybe you can just ignore the situation entirely and hope it’ll go away??  
  
ED’s an annoying dick who’s aggravating to deal with on a good day (of which today most definitely is _not_ ) - _but_ he's also unlikely to get the message and give up easily. You weigh the options for a few seconds and settle on ignoring the message. You don’t have the energy to deal with the fishdouche right now, and besides, this shitty code isn't going to fix itself.  
  
Hey, who knows, maybe today will turn out to be your lucky day! FF’s been after you lately to be more positive, might as well start now!  
  
Plan of action set, you go back to reviewing your code and just like you thought there’re a few more pings from Trollian. You ignore it, focusing your full attention on untangling the syntax in the code so the ROBOTECTORS will target the fucking enemy instead of going exclusively after orange cakes.

(Yeah, you’re, uh, not too sure how that one happened, either.)

It takes you a bit to rescue the correct lines from the nonsense, and you’re almost done when a loud bang resonates from the adjacent block. You startle violently and whip around, bloodpusher racing, to see a box of wires has spilled all over the floor and into the doorway. You roll your eyes and sigh heavily - your fucking lusus-sprite is as clumsy as ever.  
  
“Watch it!” you yell, too lazy to get up and track him down. You hear a few grumbles in response, but Biclopssprite doesn’t appear so with another roll of your eyes you spin your chair back around to your husktop.

The Trollian symbol is flashing, indicating multiple messages. You glance at your code, considering, but the shock has driven the ideas from your mind. You groan - you were almost done, but you’ve been jolted out of your coding fugue and you know from experience that you won’t get it back by diving right in.

You eye Trollian again. Hmm. It’s almost definitely Eridan, and while he _is_ always annoying, he’s also sometimes entertaining. It might be a nice break. Besides, you don’t think you’ve actually _heard_ any pings from Trollian for the last little bit.  
  
Which is weird.

Usually it takes fucking _hours_ of you ignoring him for ED to get bored/discouraged enough to go away. Maybe the universe's finally decided to stop shitting on you for a second and give you a fucking break?  
  
Yeah, right, and squealbeasts fly in daylight. You roll your eyes in annoyance.

You hesitate for a moment, but against your better judgement you decide to check the chat. Something in the back of your mind is pushing you; it’s probably only another one of fishdicks’ stunts, but fuck it, you’re curious (and you’re _pretty_ sure it won’t kill you; it’s not like you’re fucking NP).

Most of it’s what you expected (though with more typos and errors than you’re used to from Mr. ‘im the fuckin elite a the elite i nevver make any mistakes boww before me you stupid lowwblood swwine’ Ampora); that stupid nickname he uses for you a few times pleading for your attention, somehow even lamer than usual taunts, and pleas to come visit him disguised as demands. You skim through it quickly, ready to just close the window again and ignore the whole fucking thing, when you get to the end and - 

> CA: soll  
>  CA: i knoww tour online  
>  CA: ssoll  
>  CA: youif gotta come ts llowwwas

\- a long pause and -  

> CA: pllleasse

You pretty much flip your fucking chair in shock.  
  
Never in your sad, twice doomed life have you heard the arrogant fish prince deign to use the word please. _Never_. To your knowledge he’s never even used it with FF - and everyone knows he was so red for her it was practically mutant. And sweet fucking mother grub but you would never in a million sweeps expected him to say it to _you_.  
  
The shock shorts out your thinkpan, and it takes a few minutes for you to gather your senses back into your scrambled pan. This is so fucking weird it’s making your hide itch. Anything that involves the royal blooded prick is always weird and has only gotten weirder since this shitty game started, but this is so far beyond it’s not even fucking funny.

You scroll back up through the messages, looking for clues or fucking _anything_ that’ll tell you more about this sudden unsettling behavior change. But aside from what you noticed the first time you read through it nothing really jumps out at you from the texts.  
  
There aren’t any new messages after... _that one_ , and in fact, checking the time, it’s been almost an hour since ED sent that last message. The rest of the messages before that are spaced out over several minutes, very unlike ED who prefers to spam people until he gets a response.

Shit. Something's wrong here, and you don’t need the rising sense of doom in your head to tell you _that_.  
You’re tired and irritated and this kind of shifty behavior from one of your least favorite trolls is the last fucking thing you need right now. You think desperately about ignoring the issue, but a nagging feeling in your feed storage unit convinces you that’s a sucky idea. And you can’t pass this shit off to anyone else, _fuck_ , because none of the other trolls are willing to deal with ED’s fucking shit right now either.

Besides, whatever fishdick is up too, it’s probably better to deal with it head on than to let it fester until it explodes in all your faces.  
  
Ugh. You so don’t want to do this.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling caligulusAquarium [CA] at 3:55 --  

> TA: well would you look at that 2eem2 liike you really can teach an old fiish new triick2.

Nothing says you can’t be a fucking dick about it, though.  

> TA: ed?  
>  TA: ugh thii2 ii2 2o fuckiing LAME.  
>  TA: now that ii actually giive you 2ome fuckiing attentiion you fuckiing dii22apear.  
>  TA: ii can 2ee youre 2tiill onliine fii2hfuck.  
>  TA: real cla22y ed.

You send a few more messages over the span of the next few minutes, but there’s no response. Which is not like Eridan. At all. In all the time you’ve know him Eridan has never not jumped practically instantaneously on every Trollian ping you've sent him. You’re trying not to get agitated, because the royal fishstick isn’t fucking worth it, but the unusual behavior is honestly starting to make the mini-spines on the back of your vertebrate stem stand straight up.  
  
The feeling in your feed storage unit is getting worse, too. You wait a few more seconds for ED to respond before the feeling overwhelms you and your fingers are back on the communication board.  

> TA: come on ED thii2 ii2nt fuckiing funny iim 2tartiing two get pretty bored here.

Still no response. In spite of your better judgement, you’re starting to get worried. Which is fucking ridiculous - you’ve never been worried about fishdick in your life- but no, no, you’re definitely not worried about the pompous prince, you’re just worried about whatever trick he’s playing now.  
  
Yeah, that’s it. Definitely. The only reason.  
  
(No delusions here, no sirree! Everything’s clear as fucking crystal, thanks for asking now please if they would be so kind as to suck your bifurcated bulges on their way right the fuck out -)  
  
You shake your head roughly (you really need to get some fucking sleep), wincing when the harsh movement sends off sparks behind your throbbing eyes - a clear sign you’ve spent way too long in front of your husktop without a break - and turn back to the chat.  
Fucking finally, ED’s responded to yo-

> CA: pleasseex  
>  CA: helppp

\-- caligulusAquarium [CA] has been disconnected from twinArmageddons [TA] at 4:00 --

You’re out of your chair before you can complete your next thought, crashing through the fucking window and shooting out of your hive on your way to the nearest portal towards LOWAA as fast as your psionics can fucking take you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! If people find this interesting, I'll post the next chapter soo- who am I kidding I'm in this too deep, even if not a single person reads this I'll get the next part out as soon as I finish it!
> 
> Well, hopefully someone reads this! And if anyone's interested, I'm desperately in need of a Beta/someone to bounce ideas off of!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _You enter ED's hive in a rush and before you have a chance to do a single fucking thing you're thrown hard at a wall and being held at knife point by a troll you’ve never seen before in your fucking life._
> 
>  _What the_ fuck.
> 
> Yeah, uh, chapter ~~two~~ ~~three!~~ five? is when shit gets real au.
> 
> Shame I haven't written it yet.
> 
> If you have any thoughts please leave a comment!
> 
> EDIT 03/18/2017: now with colors!! And a chapter title!!!  
> EDIT 03/22/2017: minor changes to structure and grammar, nothing really significant.  
> EDIT 05/01/2017: minor edits, added a little bit to one scene, clean up.


	2. ==> Sollux: burst through ED’s wall like the Trollaid Man!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux makes his way to Eridan's hive through the ridiculous mess that is the current state of Sgrub's session. He's not entirely sure what he expects to be there when he arrives, but it's certainly not what he finds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter!!! WHOOOOOHHHHOOOOOO!!! 
> 
> Finally, I got this done! Just in time, too, as it's been about a week since the last one! 
> 
> More in depth notes at the end.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: language, sollux, incredibly lengthy prose for very little action...

**== > Sollux: burst through ED’s wall like the Troll-Aid Man!**

You’re not even close to ED’s hive yet, numbnuts. The current mechanics of this shitty game mean there are still like, ten fucking gates between you and LOWAA.

Fuck the (new) shitty voice in your head, anyway, you’re already going at top speed (which you’d say is pretty fucking _fast_ , if anyone bothered asking you); you blew through Karkat’s shitty humid land in record time, and you’ve almost made it through Terezi’s mindfuck of a world to the gate to LOTAM, barely stopping to acknowledge the imps surrounding the other portals. Still, nothing says you can’t try and squeeze out a bit more fucking speed-

Though what the fuck is making you so desperate??

The sudden thought blooms in your mind like blood on water, and brings you up short in your mad dash towards the next gate. Your panic cools slightly as you take a moment to consider the question.

It’s a valid point - fishdick, while being one of only twelve trolls currently left in the whole fucking world, is certainly no friend of yours. If anything, you’d call him an enemy - a COMPLETELY PLATONIC enemy, at that. He’s not even interesting enough to make a good _rival_ , let alone anything more positive. It’s not like you’re alone in thinking that, either - _FF_ broke up with him, and she’s so nice it’s practically un-trollish.

And ED is desperate for attention; always has been - he’s pulled stunts before, in an effort to gain favor or ire or just simply _attention_ (though he hasn’t done anything like that in a while, you note…) Despite his uncharacteristic behavior in that chat there’s no way to know this isn’t just another of his ploys for attention. ‘Sides, even if (a big fucking if) there is something happening, why should it be up to you to help him?? Why in all the twelve new worlds would prince fish contact _you_ for _help?_ You two hate each other (platonically) and, honestly, it’s no hide off your spine nubs if -

- _ no no no! not noww please no-! _

It’s like a sledge-hammerkind straight to your brain - drilling directly into the spot that _graciously grants_ you the ability to hear the voices of the imminently doomed - and it’s immediately recognizable: _Eridan_.

The force of your take off creates an echoing boom and you’re pretty sure you hear something shatter behind you.

You don’t stop to check.

That was Eridan’s voice.

You don’t know anything that can fake _that_.

In all of your six miserable fucking sweeps you’ve never managed to change the fate of a single one of the voices you hear - but (with one glaring exception ~~_arad-_~~ ) you’ve also never actually fucking tried before - this time you’re determined not to let the future you hear come true.

( _you can’t do it again, you can’t you can’t youcant-_ )

It takes you about four seconds to reach the gate to Gamzee’s world, and of fucking course it’s _fucking surrounded_ by imps. Just like every single other fucking gate in this shitty game is and okay, you’re forced to admit now that maybe those ROBOTECTORS you’re working on aren’t such a useless fucking idea after all - you wish you had some on hand right the fuck _now_. FUCK.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!! You don’t have the fucking time to stop and fight, you have to get through this _fast -_

You hesitate for a moment miles above the gate: then, making a decision, you grit your fangs, narrow your eyes, and relinquish control of your psionic and let gravity take hold. You hang in the air for a moment before you start to drop, and then you’re diving down to the gate at top fucking speed. The force of the wind generated by your fall sends the imps scattering and you’re dematerializing in the spirals before they have a chance to recover.

You materialize moments later in the fucking psychedelic juggalo clown hell that is the Land of Tents and Mirth. Your momentum shoots you straight past the enemies loitering around Gamzee’s hive and about forty meters past it before you even start to slow. You re-engage your psionics to keep you moving forward and fly onwards to the next gate.

ED might not be anywhere close to your favorite troll (fucking _understatement_ if there ever was one), but it isn’t like there are any trolls to fucking spare at the moment, either. Literally any other time and you’d leave the royal fishstick to his own comedy of errors, but, well. This shitty game isn’t going to be a fucking walk in the public lawnring - it’s going to take all 12 shitty excuses for trolls that you are working together to have _any_ chance of getting through this shit. And as much as you’re _loathe_ to admit it, ED _is_ one of the more powerful players in your session (one does not become the future Empresses Orphaner through sheer luck, after all). As much as you’d rather leave him on his own (so, so, much), none of you can afford to lose the royal fuckup.

(Besides, you’d like to think you’re not quite shitty enough of a troll to actually leave someone in trouble when you could help them ~~_not again_~~ ~~.~~ )

Not that these FUCKING IMP HORDES are making ANY OF THIS _EASY!!_

You’re coming up fast on the next epicycloid - thank _fuck_ \- but once again there’s yet another fucking _gagle of imps_ blocking your fucking way. FUCK. You tilt your head and squint at the situation, as if that’ll fucking help you figure something out.

There’s no easy way through you can see, not like at the last gate… you’ll have to be more careful here…

  _ -no no no no not them no-! _

Or you could drop in, psionics blazing, and fucking see what happens. Not like this shit is _dangerous_ , or anything. FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK -

No time for doing this carefully, then.

You drop into a steep dive and go in low and fast, using your psionics as a wedge to drive open an avenue through the fucking throng and straight to the portal. Seconds later you pop into existence amidst the horde of imps surrounding TV’s shitty hive. Your sudden appearance takes them by surprise, and you take advantage of their scrambling to twist your way through before they can close ranks - getting caught up in a full on strife would take way too long and you’re not sure you’re not too late already (why did you wait why didn’t you check your Trollian sooner _gog you’re such a selfish idiot you’re the worst why_ _why why_ - _!_ )

You manage to make your way free of the imps before they can stop you, and then you're flying fucking free over the shitty sweltering orange desert that is LOSAZ.

There’s a heavy feeling on your chest, a deep sense of foreboding, and as much as you hate to admit it you know you're worried. You have no idea what’s in store for you when you reach Eridan’s planet, but being a Mage of Doom (whatever the fuck _that_ really means) apparently imbues you with an acute sensor for the terrible - and yours is going fucking _haywire_ right now. Whatever you’re gonna find at ED’s hive - it’s gonna be _big_.

- _ i can’t sol _ please _-!_

You need to be there fucking _yesterday_.

Thank fuck - Vriska’s gate is coming up fast; two concentrated blasts from your psionics send enemies scattering out of your way, a few exploding into grist you’re forced to ditch as you zoom past (you’re pretty sure you see an imp go sailing past wearing a pirate hat and clutching some kind of scalebeast creature but there’s no time for a second look). A second later you’re passing through the revolving spirals and appearing with a ‘pop’ amid the imp horde surrounding VK’s ominous castle.

You shoot past before you can be engaged in a proper strife, but it looks like your good fortune is starting to turn sour (like fucking _always_ ) as a few imps manage to latch their grimy claws on to you before you can get completely clear.

No time for direct combat, so you turn your flight path into a twisted trollercoaster of a ride in an attempt to dislodge them. By the time you’ve managed to shake them off you’ve likewise managed to make yourself dizzy, but you’ve also reached the next gate.

Good luck again - it looks like the imps here haven’t had time to recover from their last demolishing (VK’s been keeping busy, you see) so it’s easy enough to slip by the few imps loitering around and into the swirling vortex.

Kanaya’s circus-like hive is mostly free of enemies; all it takes is a wave of your hand to send them flying out of your way. You rush through the terrifyingly bright land as fast as you can, sacrificing cover in favor of sheer speed. The perpetually bright sky on LORAF hits you straight on and you can feel your hide start to smolder and blacken, but staying out of the malignant sun would take too long. Every second that passes is a second you don’t have - already you might be too late, but there’s no way to know until you get to ED’s hive.

Which raises the question again: why the fuck would Eridan ask _you_ for help?? He has to know how the gates work and how far apart LOBAF and LOWAA are - every single one of you has already complained at length about the fucking shitty mobiius double reach-around chainfuck that is your session and how bulge-numbingly tedious and time intensive it is to get to worlds beyond your servers’. Why didn’t he contact NP or AA or _anyone_ closer?? Why did he contact _you?_ The only one farther than you from ED is FF, but TV or KK or KN are closer to ED, both literally and emotionally and would have come. The two of you (platonically) despise each other more than any other troll you know; you would never in a million sweeps thought ED would ask for _your_ help. Gog, how fucking bad does the situation have to be that the proud fuck is asking for your help-?

Spotting next gate, you shove the questions you can’t answer to the back of your mind in favor of focusing your attention on the situation you _can_ deal with. You can think yourself in useless circles all you fucking want, but it won’t help you if you never actually _make it_ where you need to be.

You’re not as lucky here as you were at previous gates; the enemy spots you coming and starts attacking as you near, forcing you to waste time dodging their projectiles. You growl in frustration and mentally gather your power as you rise out of range. When you’re directly above the gate you send your energy out in a massive fucking burst that sends imps spinning out of your way and dive through the portal, disappearing with a sharp ‘pop’.

You come up swinging in LOCAS, knocking back innocent bystander (why _the fuck_ are EQ’s shitty creepy consorts surrounding his hive anyway oh my gog those things are so fucking _stupid_ ) and foe alike as you hurtle your way past, springing off horsedick’s tilted hive and straight up towards the next gate. Luck's on your side again, as EQ has stationed some prototype ROBOTECTORS at the gate to keep it clear of enemies - already they’re engaged in strife with some imps and ogres, and you manage to slip past unnoticed. A rolling dive takes you past the last of the enemy into the gate and you tumble out of a cave on the other side, directly onto the snowy grounds of LOLCAT.

Scrambling to your feet and sending out a minor burst of electrical energy scatters the creatures creeping up on you and gives you a second to jump back into the air. You can see the next - and (fucking _finally_ ) last - gate directly in front of you. Your psionics let you cover the space in about 16 seconds and you thank fucking gog and all his fucking troll angels for that; you haven’t heard anything from the voices in your head in way too long (there’s a sentence you _never_ thought you’d say).

Which means either ED’s managed to buy himself some time and escaped his looming doom… or you’re already too fucking late. You hope with all the optimism you can muster in your shitty twisted bloodpusher it’s not the latter.

(you can’t be too late not again you can’t have another troll die because of you you can’t not a _gain you can’t -_ )

You speed past the aggressors surrounding the gate until you’re out of range and skid to a stop midair. A twisting dive downwards, a few jabs from your psionics to throw back the enemy, and you’re through - FUCKING FINALLY! - appearing with a faint crack on LOWAA.

Your momentum sends you careening forward a few dozen feet before you manage to hit the psychic brakes and skid to a stop midair. You notice for the first time in your entire breakneck sprint here that you haven’t appeared neck-deep in a pile of enemies upon your arrival, but there’s still no time to think about it - you still need to find ED and figure out what. _the fuck._ is _going on_.

Frantically, you start searching the area around you, trying to figure out where you are and where you need to go. You need to find Eridan, ASAP, but all you can see around you is an endless array of black and white. It’s a struggle to bring your scattered thoughts together over the racing of your bloodpusher enough to attempt coherency. Your mind’s running a mile a minute through a thousand different things but _none of it is fucking helpful_. LOWAA is confusing as shit, lines and buildings blurring dizzyingly into each other, and the entire place is so silent it feels deafening.

A moment passes in frenzied, useless, spinning - and then you forcefully push aside your panic so you can fucking _think_.

Alright, what’s your next fucking step? You need to find ED. Well, where the fuck is he most likely to be? Where where where _where_ \- if fish prince was able to contact you then he had to have access to some kind of electronic device - and as far as you know his only electronic is his husktop, which isn’t portable. That means it's most likely he was in his hive when he messaged you, and your best fucking bet at locating him is to go there.

And the gates always transport you near the hive, so his hive shouldn’t be too far from where you appeared...

You turn in a circle and spot the rising tower of game construction back the way you came -

And all the enemies you’d been missing, too.

The original parts of ED’s shipwrecked hive are practically _invisible_ behind the swarm of enemies surrounding it - consorts and imps alike.

Dear fucking  _gogmagog_ , one look at those angels and you can see why Eridan is obsessed with killing his consorts - they’re utterly terrifying: all fangs and claws and _no horns_ , white shining scales and terrible feathered wings and _glowing_ like something straight out of your worst wriggler horrortales. They’re everything the legends say of angels and _worse_ , and if they’d been your consort you know you’d have killed them too. Just the sight of them sends chills down your back and you can feel yourself break out in a defensive sheen of slick that hardens in seconds.

And the _noise_ \- the noise is terrible, an unending ear piercing shriek of rage, like glass shattering, and claws raked down a chalkboard, and a thousand knives directly to the brain - it’s endless, awful, more than your mind can comprehend.

Shit shit shit shit _shit!_ They’ve completely surrounded the hive- there’s not a fucking inch visible - though here and there you spot jets of light breaking through the fucking cloud of utter terror and knocking back enemies. It’s not much, but it gives you a little bit of hope - here is your first indication you might not too late again; if Eridan is still fighting then that means he’s still alive.

But it won’t last long - already even in just the few scant seconds you’ve been watching you can see the bursts of light are diminishing - FUCK. You grit your fangs and square your shoulders, bringing your psionics in close as you prepare to make your entrance. There’s no time for planning (when is there ever); it’s time to _go_

A faint prayer to gods you don’t believe in, and once again you let go and let yourself drop, hurtling at the horde -

_ -have to hold on-! Just a little while longer! _

\- what the fuck was that?? Shit, no time to think about it because you’ve reach the edge of the cloud. You release your tight grasp on your psionics in a spiraling blast that knocks back two angels and turns a few imps straight into grist before they realize you’re even there -

_ \- i can’t let you-!!!! _

\- but shit are they aware of you _now_ ; the enemy turns their attention on you, closing in on all sides and halting your momentum. An angel lashes out at you with wicked claws and you barely managed to avoid being decapitated. You let out a warning growl and lash out with your own hands, forcing electricity down your arms and flying out from the tips of your claws -

_ -FUCK FUCK FUCK NO I REFUSE! _

\- tearing angels and imps alike to shreds and getting you several feet closer to the hive before the dense concentration of aggressors halts you again; the sudden stop surprises you and before you can recover you take a glancing hit to your side. You howl out a loud “FUCK!” in pain and lash out again -

_ \- monsters getAWAY fromthem-! _

\- clearing the space around you for a few precious seconds as you struggle further into the center of the horde. Everything’s a whirlwind of wings and claws and sharp, but through flashes of darting enemies you manage to catch a glimpse of bright teal that has to be Eridan’s hive, you’re almost there, _so close! -_

_ -can’t give up i can’t let them through-! _

\- _There!_ an opening appears when you push outward with your mind and you dive down; you spot a window out of the corner of your eye and twist towards it, viciously batting away an imp as you dive down. You barely manage to bring your arms up to shield your head before you’re crashing violently through the battered window in a shower of glass and blood.

Slamming into the wall opposite your newly made entrance brings you to an abrupt halt. No time to recover: you stumble up from your crash landing, staggering as you attempt to recover your balance. Your thoughts are scrambled (so maybe it wasn’t your best idea ever to dive through the window horns first FUCK) and you’re momentarily dazed, psionics useless with your control shaken. You manage to peel your eyes open to look around and barely catch a glimpse of a blue and black blur before something smashes into you and sends you colliding right back into the same fucking wall. The back of your head bounces off it and fuck there go the stars again.

It takes a second for you to recover enough to attempt opening your eyes ( _again_ ), and when you manage your vision is so blurry it takes you another moment to try and figure out what’s going on. There’s a knife digging threateningly into your throat, held by a troll with a murderous expression that you’ve never seen before in your fucking life.

Huh.

What _the fucking_ **_fuck?!_ **

The shock shorts out your thinkpan. The troll restraining you has crooked horns that dart backward in a sharp right angle at the tip, a jagged scar on the left side of his face, and is slightly shorter and likely a sweep or two younger than you, judging by the wriggler fat still clinging to his cheeks.

He’s also snarling viciously in your face, and the hands holding the serrated knife to your throat are rock steady.

It only takes you a second to take in the danger of the situation; at the same time you manage to pull together your mental capacities enough to push back with your psionics. Unfortunately the hits to your head have rendered you weaker than you’re used to and there’s not enough there to push the abnormally strong troll away. Your resistance elicits a surprised grunt and a slight give from the other troll, but before you can take advantage of the opening he’s already recovered. You growl back and from there the whole thing degenerates into a tense stalemate.

“ _Who_ are _you?_ ” your assailant demands, splattering your face with blue spittle and revealing a set of dangerously sharp teeth in menacing snarl.

In the background you can hear a loud commotion; more unfamiliar voices ( _how the fuck did they get here??_ You would have sworn that besides the twelve of you the entirety of the troll race died out when this shitty game began - if not in the fucking meteor shower than in the Vast Glub that killed _you_ ), but none of them are the one you would expect to hear and the worry that had started to fade when you saw those bursts of light is returning with a vengeance. You’re itching to take a look around, but you can’t risk taking your attention off the troll in front of you.

You scrabble against the hold, digging your claws into the grey arm braced against your chest; in seconds you’ve drawn blood, blue trickling down over your fingers. “Who the fuck are _you?_ ” you sneer in return.

The other troll doesn’t even flinch, leaning in and pushing you harder against the wall with another low snarl. You growl back, refusing to give an inch as you press forward into his grip, getting dangerously close to the edge of the fucking _knife_. The two of you glare fiercely at each other when yet another fucking strange troll breaks in.

“Ketras!! Stopit!!” the voice comes from right fucking next to you. Neither of you break eye contact or give any indication you’ve heard the interloper, too preoccupied with your glaring contest.

“Yeah, thtop it, fuckfathe,” you drawl mockingly, making sure to lisp aggressively so your spit ends up coating his face. He grimaces but doesn’t give an inch, to your frustration. In the back of your thinkpan you can feel your psionics starting to trickle back as the ringing in your head recedes. You keep the increased power tightly bound as you wait for the best opportunity. “Before you _get hurt_.”

“Shut _up!!!_ ” your aggressor shouts, though it’s unclear whether he’s talking to you or to the other troll - who you can see encroaching on the two of you from the corner of your eye (a fleeting impression: large horns, short, green) - but either way you bare your fangs and let out a growl that carries a threat along the lines of: pissed as fuck and ready to fucking _murder something_.

“Back the fuck _off_ ,” you snap back viciously, taking the sudden lapse in concentration to give a simultaneous mental and physical shove that actually manages to push him back a bit.

Regrettably your breathing room doesn’t last long; he shoves right back with a wordless threat of his own, knife actually managing to nick your neck before you recover and push it back again, “I should just kill you now!”

You can tell the situation is seconds away from degenerating even further, and you gear yourself up for a proper strife -

\- a flash of movement and you react without thinking, lashing out with the full force of your almost recovered psionics in a blast that sends the whatever-it-is crashing back into a wall.

The distraction costs you. The sudden lack of resistance sends your assailer stumbling into you, knife driving into the wall dangerously close to your neck. Fortune is on your side, however, as it only makes a shallow cut that bleeds sluggishly.

Before you can retaliate the troll pulls away - is pulled away, you belatedly realize - by the green blob you noticed before. Given the opportunity to observe without a knife to your neck, the blob resolves itself into a young female troll with giant downward curving horns that shield her face and short, messy hair.

You bring a hand up to press against your aching neck and watch as the green girl pulls your struggling captor away with surprising strength, loudly berating him all the while. “Stupid! Eri _toldus_ someone wouldbe coming!!! Stupidstupid _stupid!_  Thatangel almost got you!” She grabs one of his horns (how scandalous!!) and jerks the assholes head to the side.

You follow the motion and see the thing you just blasted smoldering on the ground. You’re pretty sure it used to be an angel, but now it’s nothing but a smoldering pile on the ground. Your crash landing opened up a hole in the wall and it looks like the enemy is getting bold enough risk entering the break.

(Whoops.)

“Incoming!” someone shouts, and you follow the voice to the wall you came in through and spot even _more_ of the strange trolls.

To the right of the broken window is a troll with spiraled horns and long wild hair dressed entirely in shades of brown with some kind of cross-shaped weapon they’re using to bat away enemies. On the opposite side of the gap is troll with a single sharp jab of a horn and a yellow scarf; his weapon of choice seems to be a rope manipulated through some sort of psychic ability. Farther back in the block is a female troll with horns as tall as her hair is long who’s using a bow to send a seemingly endless volley of arrows out into the swarm.

The blueblooded troll who’d held you against the wall joins the long horned troll in front of the opening, a wicked looking knife in each hand, and the green girl crouches in front of them with a giant shield held out. All five of them look significantly younger than you, and all of them seem to know exactly what they’re doing.

You have _so many_ fucking questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well to everyone who made it through that slog, I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I slipped in some head cannon on troll anatomy, though I stopped using specific troll terms for a lot of things except for in conversation, as I felt keeping up with it lost the immersion. Tell me what you think, please!
> 
> If anyone's wondering why Sollux had to go through, like, 50 gates to get to LOWAA, it's because when I looked up how the gates worked and the troll entry order, it showed that Sollux and Eridan are separated by only one gate (Feferi's) but you'd have to jump backwards to get there. And apparently the gates work by the first one taking you to another part of your world, the second one takes you to your server's world, the third one to their server's world and so on. I decided to set this early game before they've unlocked more of their gates, for the sake of drama (tm). But mostly it's to make Sollux suffer, as his pain is funny to me. :D
> 
> Next chapter is already started and I'm starting to get more of a handle on where I'm going with this whole thing, so hopefully I'll have it up in a week at the latest. 
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _“It theemth like you’ve got a handle on the thituation,” you pick up the conversational thread again, sending out a burst of psionic energy and incapacitating a few angels and demolishing a few imps, “not thure what you need_ me _for.”_
> 
>  _“We can’t kill them,” the girl with the tall horns announces, shooting six arrows in a row and driving back an equal number of enemies, “that’s what we need_ you _for.”_
> 
> _What? You think, like an idiot._
> 
>  _“What?” you say, like an_ idiot _._
> 
> And last but certainly not least, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR YOUR RESPONSE OMG I DID NOT EXPECT THAT AT ALL. I hope you enjoy this chapter and that I don't let you down!
> 
> EDIT 05/01/2017: minor edits, word changes made for consistency.


	3. ==> Sollux: greet your new friends!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux spends the entire chapter trying to figure out what's going on in between knocking the heads off some angels and learns very little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I made my deadline by like, 2 minutes!!!!! Ahahaha! :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing, ocs, poorly written fight scenes, canon typical violence

**== > Sollux: greet your new friends!  
**

These trolls are _not_ your friends.

You have no fucking clue who they even _are_.

In fact, you’re kind of stuck on the fact there is no possible way for them to _be here_. Every troll on Alternia died when starting the game initiated the meteor shower, and the rest of your race went the same way when Gl’bolyb died and let out the Vast Glub. The only survivors were the 12 of you in the game (and possibly the Condesce?). So there is no fucking way there could somehow be other trolls still alive. It’s just not _possible_.

So _how the fuck are they here??_

Your brain refuses to register anything for a second as you gape wordlessly at the new, should not exist at all how the hell is this possible, trolls. Then, with a feeling like an electric shock straight to your nerves, it starts working again. Thoughts flow through your brain so fast it’s like it’s trying to make up for lost time, churning through the information available at lightning speed as it tries to figure out some kind of reasonable explanation.

There’s so much you don’t know that you have to force the questions aside and focus on what you _do_ know. Unfortunately, the things you do know could fit in a fucking _cup_ : based on what you’ve seen and heard in the two minutes since you entered the block, you’re pretty sure these strange trolls are responsible for the voices you heard in your head as you dove into the hive. Their probably also behind the light show you saw cutting through the enemy hoards. They attacked you when you first entered, despite somehow seeming to know you were coming. They’re younger than you, a mix of different blood castes, and yet they seem to be accustomed to working together. They also don’t seem to be confused about anything that’s happened since you got here, which means they probably know what’s going on.

After that you only have speculation and a fucking _mountain_ of questions. Like: where the fuck did they come from? How the fuck did they _get_ here? Who _are_ they?? _Why_ are they here? Are they friend or foe? _Where the fuck is Eridan?_ The questions are fucking endless. There’s no way you can figure this out just by thinking about it, there’s just too much you don’t know. Fed up with your relentlessly circling thoughts you speak up, bringing their attention back to you.

“Who the fuck _are you people?_ ” you bite out suspiciously, glaring at them intently as if by staring hard enough you might be able to force the answers out of them. You remain hunkered defensively against the wall as you massage at your poor abused neck. It’s stopped bleeding, but you know it’s still gonna be sore as _fuck_ for days.

Your question distracts the trolls watching the wall enough an angel manages to take advantage of the opening and sneak in far enough to grab onto the troll with the tall horns. The startled troll lets out a surprised shout of alarm that brings everyone's attention back to her. The other trolls freeze in place, unsure how to get at the monster without hurting their friend.

Pissed at the interruption, you use your powers to rip it away from the terrified troll and crush it into a harmless ball. The entire time you keep your eyes locked on the strange trolls, impatiently waiting for them to answer. “Well?” you prompt them, narrowing your eyes when they stay silent.

The green girl glances at her friends, but doesn’t seem to find what she’s looking for. A second later she sighs and responds to you.

“We’re-”

And, of-fucking-COURSE - as soon as it looks like you might finally be getting some fucking answers - is when the enemy decides it’s time to attack en masse.

Because what kind of life would you have if everything in it didn’t fucking SUCK? _Certainly_ not one you’d actually want to _live_ , or anything, oh _no._ You growl in frustration and lash out with your psionics, sending an incoming angel hurtling back the way it came, now with the added bonus of being on fire.

An imp comes hurtling in through the hole, faster than the two trolls covering the entrance can react. The green troll (you decide you’re going to call her Greeny) swings up her massive shield, hitting it head on and sending it shooting right back out.

(In the back of your mind you note the imp stays solid, if a bit dazed, despite getting hit hard enough you’d swear it should be fucking _grist_. But there’s no time to ponder it - after that the whole situation dissolves into a brutal multisided strife.)

“No time!” the single horned troll hollers (you’ll call him Mustard - the symbol on his shirt and his scarf hint to him being a fellow yellowblood). “They’re coming!” He lashes out into the throng with his rope, snagging a few imps and angels in the coils. Whirling in a circle he returns them to the swarm where they crash into several others, knocking them back. “Come _on!_ ” he roars, diving forward towards the hole.

The rest of the trolls start immediately go on the attack, but you hesitate. Your thoughts are jumbled every which way and you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. You don’t know if you should fight with or against these strange trolls or whether you should just leave entirely - but an angel slips past them and flies straight for your fucking face and suddenly there’s no more time to think about it. Asshole (you decide the blueblooded troll doesn’t deserve a clever nickname) might have attacked you before - and you’re still fucking salty about it - but at the moment these shitty imps and angels are presenting an immediate threat, and you refuse to just stand there and let them get away with it. Besides, these trolls have the answers you want - if you let them die, figuring out what’s going on will get a hell of a lot harder.

You lash out with your psionics, forced to use your hands to direct them in a way you haven’t since you were a fucking wriggler. Your powers are still recovering from the blows you took to the thinkpan and your excessive use of them on the way here. You force the nightmare of a consort back out the fissure, driving it into several more of its ilk and impaling them on a lance wielded by an imp further in the horde.

“Why the fuck thhould I help _you_ athhholeth?” you spit out as you stride forwards, eyes locked on the enemy. You’ve already decided to help them, but getting them talking while they’re distracted by the fight might help you figure out what’s going on.

Asshole snarls as he slashes an angel with one of his knives; the enemy jerks backwards but takes no lasting damage you can see. “That’s our line!” he shouts back at you, whirling around to engage an imp who tries to jump him from the side.

“Ketras!” Greeny reproaches the other troll (you realize that’s likely the blueblood’s name, but decide to keep calling him Asshole, because _fuck_ him). She’s hunkered down behind her shield as five hostiles beat down on it, “Shutup! You’reonly making thingsworse!” She springs out of her crouch with a loud battle cry and sends the enemies flying towards the troll with the spiral horns (you dub them Curly). Curly catches the enemy on the sharp end of their weapon, bracing themselves as the bodies thud into place on the blade. Moving with the force of the impact, they swing their weapon in a wide arc and fling the offending creatures straight at you. Instinctively, you flood the incoming threat with electricity. The result is a pile of crispy twitching angels and a heap of grist.

“Ain’t much choice about it, buddy,” your fellow yellow sneers, whipping out his rope and herding back a few rowdy imps. “These guys ain’t apt ta fergetta bout ya just cuz ya ain’t fightin’ back.”

You growl in frustration and fry an imp as it tries to creep up on you. “I got in here eathy enough,” you remind them, “I can leave jutht ath eathy.” It’s an empty threat. There’s no fucking way you’re leaving before you figure this shit out.

“You’d leave us to die?” Asshole snorts as if he expected as much, and fuck him - he doesn’t get to have an opinion about you. He fucking threw you into a wall himself! “Bastard!” he turns abruptly and hurls a knife at you.

You jump back with a shout and it misses hitting you by a hair. You snarl and ready yourself to retaliate, but Asshole’s already turning back to the flood, unconcerned. Confused, you risk a glance behind you and there’s a fucking angel right _fucking_ there, claws outstretched. You jump back before you realize it can’t reach actually reach you, as it’s pinned to the wall by a knife through its midsection. You disintegrate it with a shudder and eye the arrogant blueblood. He just saved your life.

You eye him a little more speculatively as you turn back to the fight. “Theemth to me like you’ve got a handle on the thituation,” you observe, sending out a burst of mental energy and demolishing a set of imps. “Not really thure what you need _me_ for.”

There’s quiet for a moment as they look at each other as they try to figure out how to answer. You remain quiet as you watch them - the only reason they would need to think about this is if they’re trying to hide something from you, and you’re determined to figure it out. An incoming angel brings an abrupt end to their conference; Curly knocks it back, and the group seems to come to a decision.

“We can’t kill them,” the tall horned girl declares (Bows, you decide, for the weapon in her hand and the sash tied around her waist). She shoots six arrows rapid fire and drives back an equal number of aggressors. “ We need _you_ for that.”

 _What?_ You think, like an idiot.

“What?” you say, like an _idiot_. That makes no fucking _sense_ \- they have weapons, they can fight - what, are they too scared to actually use lethal force? Too gentle, or some shit, to actually deal with the enemy like a real fucking troll? What the fuck?? You did not sign up to do anyone’s fucking dirty work.

You’ve _seen_ them - but, wait. Hold on. You’ve seen them _hit_ the enemy, but you haven’t actually seen them defeat anything, have you? Even when you were sure their attacks should have ended an opponent, the creatures always seemed to bounce back. And - they keep sending the enemies your way to finish them off. Still, that’s crazy -

Curly shoots you a scathing look like they can hear your thoughts (hey, it’s always _possible_ ), scoffing as they swipe at an angel, forcing it to retreat. “We are not a proper part of the game. Ergo, we are not able to affect actual constructs of the game in any significant manner.” You’re impressed they can be so eloquent even while they dodge the grasp of one angel and send another sailing your way with a twist of their weapon.

You incinerate the offending projectile as you try to make sense of the fucking _hornbeastshit_ being spewed at you. “What the bulgenumbing _fuck_ is that thuppothed to mean?” you protest, frowning fiercely as you try to figure out why Curly is fucking with you. Anything that enters Sgrub is part of the game. You _know_ that - you fucking wrote the code that started this and ended the world yourself!

An imp takes advantage of your inattention to slip behind you, getting close enough to slash with its sickle and cutting a shallow slice in your arm. Greeny knocks it back with a small thrown disk, giving you enough time to recover and crush it with a nearby piece of debris.

“We are not supposed to _be here_ ,” Curly clarifies, and slashes an imp in half with their cross.

You watch, stunned, as the two halves ooze back together as soon as the weapon is gone. The imp itself is unfazed and immediately resumes attacking.

“The game was not made to accommodate us. Thus, it seeks to invalidate our existence by refusing to let us interact in any substantial fashion with true components of the game.” They reverse their grip on their weapon and knock the insolent imp back into the wall. It bounces off unharmed and starts advancing again. Curly swings again and it dances out of reach, hovering tauntingly out of range. “It is also attempting to correct the mistake of our presence by turning-”

Curly gets cut off when an imp with a mallet jumps out of the horde and delivers a solid hit to their side, stunning them into dropping their weapon. Mustard dives in for the save before the imp can attack again, catching it up in his rope and hurling it at you. Enemy taken care of, he drops down beside Curly and helps them up, warding off further attacks by lashing out erratically with his weapon.

“Lesstalking, morefighting!” Greeny orders, swooping in to cover them and forcing several enemies back with her shield. The other two trolls use the reprieve to recover; after a moment of rest, Curly retrieves their weapon and they and Mustard rejoin the fight.

Unfortunately, Greeny’s right - your adversaries decide it’s high time to rush the opening all at once, running rampant over their fellows as each one attempts to be the first inside. The block dissolves into a flurry of wings and swinging weapons, and it’s impossible to spare enough concentration for a conversation.

Despite knowing that fighting with anything but your full attention will most likely get you killed (again! your subconscious helpfully adds - you tell it to shut _up_ ) you find yourself unable to focus completely on the action. Even as you crush and burn and eradicate, even as you decimate the mob with everything you have - your brain won’t shut _up_.

Your traitorous mind throws half-formed thoughts at you in rapid succession with no regard for the situation you’re currently in. Thoughts like: there’s too many of them and not enough of you. Or: what’s happening with the rest of the ship? When you saw it outside the place was surrounded, imps and angels and even a few ogres battering at the hull. Could they break through into the hive and sneak up on your position from behind? Which reminds you - what about the beams of energy and areas of combat you saw? What caused them? The ship? The enemy? More strange trolls? Your friends? Eridan?? Where the FUCK _is_ Eridan?? He’s the one who got you into this whole fucking mess in the first place so where the hell is he hiding?!

Further thoughts branch out from there, continuing the shitty spiral of confusion and dangerously drawing your attention away from the battle. What the fuck do these trolls have to do with ED? Where did they come from? Did they do something to the shitty fish prince? Are _they_ why he needed your help?? Or did Eridan bring them here, somehow, and things got out of hand?? You don’t fucking _know_ and the lack of answers is pissing you off. All your mind can do is spin ineffectively through different scenarios.

Luck is on your side, it seems (you twitch - you don’t want anything involving VK even _remotely_ near you, intangible bogus concept or not), because you manage to remain aware enough of your surroundings to avoid serious injury. You take a few shallow hits here and there, and the sudden pain often serves to jar you from the more intense meanderings of your mind.

You’re have no idea how long you’ve been fighting, and in spite of your valiant efforts your attacks don’t seem to be making any meaningful headway in lessening the enemy's numbers. The assault seems endless, and there’s no fucking way the lot of you can manage this on your own, especially if you’re the only one who can put the enemy down permanently.

It’s that thought that drives you to speak up again during a temporary lull caused by a fortuitous thinning of the opposition. None of you are fool enough to think the fight is over - the enemy hasn’t left yet. You gladly take advantage of the reprieve anyway, keeping a careful eye on the swarm hovering outside.

“How much longer do we have to do thith?!” You groan, trying in vain to hide your exhaustion. In the same breath you send out a pulse of electricity and set an angel on fire. It screeches in pain and falls back on top of a few imps, catching them ablaze as well. You feel yourself draining the longer the fight goes on as the constant use of your psionics starts to take its toll. You’re still exhausted from using a shit-ton of energy on your mad dash from LOBAF to LOWAA, and the hits to the braincase you’ve taken today haven’t done anything to help. You’re not dry yet, but you’re very aware your tank is running low. You aren’t sure how much longer you can last. “We can’t keep thith up forever.”

Your new ‘allies’ are starting to lag as well, even more than you are. You have no idea how long they were fighting for before you arrived, and you’re depressingly sure they won’t be able to hold out for too much longer.

Bows grimaces and, still clutching an arrow tightly, swipes the back of a hand across her face. It only serves to further smear the coating of black dirt and jade fluid across it. “We don’t have ta hold ‘em off forever,” she says, glowering at her hand in dismay for a second before fixing her gaze back on the twisting army outside the (it-was-a-)window(-before-i-swear). “We just gotta last ‘til Home Base can get the emergency defenses up.”

You have not a single nookbiting idea what she means by home base or emergency defenses, but you fucking hope whatever-it-is happens _soon_. “How long will that take?” you ask, keeping a watchful eye on the enemy yourself. Looking closely for any sign they might be preparing to renew their attacks.

“Weeellll they’ve been workin’ on it since it went down last night... They’ve definitely almost got it runnin’ by _now_ ,” Bows says. She shoots an angel as it risks breaking from the horde, sending it tumbling back almost instantly. Her face twists in displeasure when two more enemies immediately take its place. Despairingly, you note that she sounds more hopeful than certain.

“It should already _be_ fixed,” the blue Asshole mutters from across the block. He’s retrieving the knives he was using as projectiles from where they’ve fallen. “If it’s taking this long-”

“Shut up!” Mustard interrupts him. He eyes you suspiciously out of one eye as he keeps the other carefully pinned to the opening and the enemy. He’s twisting his rope between his hands and you can tell that despite the gruff exterior he’s trying to project that he’s as exhausted as the rest of you. “They’ll _get it_.”

You eye their interaction dubiously, unsure who you should believe. In your moment of inattention, an imp darts out of the pack and rushes the gap. You catch it in a tendril of power and bash it against the side of the hive until it explodes into grist. “And what happenth if ‘they’ _don’t_ ‘get the defentheth up’?” you question skeptically.

Greeny and Bows share a look you can’t read, but Curly is the one who answers.

“If Home Base doesn’t come through, then we’ll have to kill enough of the enemy to scare the rest of them off,” they inform you, flicking out their weapon in a wide arc that sends the questionable fluids coating it flying off to splatter against the walls.

Fucking _great_. (Also, _ew_ ).

“And how long doeth _that_ take?”

Another furtive look between them and Greeny says, brightly: “Welllll, it’s onlybeen aboutfourhours since theattack started… based on theother attacks it should onlybe a fewmore!”

There’s a moment of complete silence in response to that statement, and you can _feel_ the expression drain from your face. Hours. Hours? _Hours?!_

Great. Fantastic! Fucking wonderful! More fucking _hours_ of _this fucking shit!!_ Yeah, sure, that seems fucking likely to happen. Six exhausted trolls against an unending horde - yeah, _you’ve got this_.

(you are all going to fucking _die_ )

You snarl wordlessly and turn your frustration on the enemy, sending out a burst of psionic energy that crushes several of them to dust in one fell swoop.

Because your life is fucking _grand_ , the enemy decides to take this as a sign to renew the attack - in the next instant the swarm moves forward as one, rushing the hive. After that there’s no more time for conversation. All that’s left is a desperate fight to survive.

* * *

\-- requisiteConnection [RC] opened memo on board H[]ME BASE: EMERGENCIES at 7:23 --  

> RC: Alright you a§§hole§ we need to get thi§ done fucking ye§terday!!  
>  RC: Where the fuck are the §hield§???
> 
> torpidNumen [TN] responded to the memo at 7:25.
> 
> TN: calm d[]wn meda... well get it d[]ne.  
>  RC: Fuck you TrA§! Our friend§ aren’t going to la§t much longer on their own!  
>  RC: JoDo what the fuck’§ the hold up??!
> 
> jargonDelphic [JD] responded to the memo at 7.27.
> 
> JD: well if you could ?hut up for a half ?econd i MIGHT be able to actually fini?h  
>  RC: Yeah well I'm getting real tired of your §hit here fi§h }>`  
>  TN: meda  
>  RC: §orry. Ju§t - ju§t get it DONE.  
>  JD: i will. not much longer  
>  RC: Good. BaAx where you at?? You done with the repair yet?  
>  TN: shes t[][] busy t[] resp[]nd... but she ga√e me a thumbsup...  
>  TN: i think that means were g[][]d t[] g[]  
>  TN: ...  
>  RC: ...  
>  JD: ...  
>  TN: she says yes  
>  RC: Go BaAx! That’§ what I’m talking about!  
>  RC: JoDo give me §ome good new§.  
>  JD: approximately -7 ?econd? to ?y?tem completion  
>  RC: Fuck ye§! That mean§ it’§ time to fucking GO!  
>  RC: TrA§ hit up the memo and let them know we’re coming in hot with the§e §weet a§§ §hield§.  
>  RC: Give em oh a ten §econd countdown and then fucking punch it.  
>  TN: already []n it meda  
>  RC: Thi§ i§ why I keep you around! Let’§ go!!!!!!!!! 

* * *

\-- torpidNumen [TN] opened memo on board ATTENTION: WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!!! at 7:34 -- 

> TN: attenti[]n all  
>  TN: shields are g[]ing up in 1[]  
>  TN: make sure t[] stay away fr[]m all hi√e []penings  
>  TN: ...d[]n’t need any[]ne getting fried.  
>  TN: 1[]...  
>  TN: 9...  
>  TN: 8...  
>  TN: 7...

* * *

It feels like you’ve been fighting for fucking _hours_. The barely risen sun informs you that isn’t possible, but the ache in your shoulders and the pounding in your head tells you you’ve been fighting way too fucking long regardless of however much time has actually passed. You’ve resorted to using physical attacks after your psionics shorted out three times in a row trying to zap an imp. After that, you made the executive decision to conserve your psionics and resorted to using your throwing stars. Once those ran out you started making weapons out of anything you could get your hands on. Currently, you’re using a spare sheet of metal you found lying around to decapitate an angel, when a series of musical tones jingles jarringly over the din of the fight.

You look around wildly, barely avoiding decapitation yourself when an imp creeps up on you. You throw your metal sheet at it, knocking it off-center. It falls backward and impales itself on the jagged end of an exposed beam, exploding into grist. With all this fighting you swear you’ve gone up like, five levels since you left your hive… last night? Last night. It had to have been last night. You push that useless concern from your mind and turn to look at the other trolls, trying to figure out the source of the noise.

Greeny smashes her current opponent away from her and drops back behind her shield. Asshole and Bows move up in front of her as cover while she’s distracted. You notice the flawless execution of the whole maneuver and have to stifle an inexplicable surge of jealousy (is there anyone you work that well with? ~~maybe Ar-~~ ). Protected behind her shield, Greeny pulls a something out of a pocket and opens it quickly. You think it’s some kind of electronic, most likely a communication device of some kind; an incoming message was probably the source of the noise.

She looks at the device for barely a moment before smoothly re-pocketing it, leaping out from behind her shield in the next instant. She whirls to the side in a spinning turn that takes her back in front of Asshole and Bows; at the last possible second she grabs up her shield and brings it close, utilizing the increased mass to speed up her turn. As she turns to face the opening she calls out a loud, “Headsup!” Releasing the shield and sending it flying through the air with lethal force.

Curly and Mustard jump away from the hole in unison at her shout, and the shield slams into place an instant later. It wedges into place covering the hole you made, forming a temporary seal over the gap. A few enemies manage to slip inside before it blocks the way and they advance on the lot of you. Curly knocks several of them back onto some sharp pieces of wood sticking out of the wall, using the environmental hazard to trick the game into letting the enemy die. You crush an imp with your metal sheet and Mustard sends an angel swinging your way. You incinerate it with a thought, and for the first time in a long time, the block is empty of threats.

You study the shield covering the hole, skeptical about its use as an adequate obstruction. Already you can tell it won’t last - even now you can see it shuddering as the mob batters at the other side. You wonder what Greeny’s angle is here - she can’t possibly expect her makeshift fix to stop the enemy for long.

“They got it up?” Mustard asks, panting heavily as he holds a shaking hand to his side. You can see yellow blood (a darker shade than yours, but similar enough it’s likely you share a genetic donor somewhere in the slurry - cool) leaking sluggishly through his fingers. It looks like a pretty bad injury, but there hasn’t been time for any kind of treatment during all the commotion. Also - who got what up now??

The shield gives an ominous shudder and you open your mouth to ask, but Greeny cuts you off before you even get around to actually saying anything.

“They gotit _up_ ,” she confirms, a vicious grin slashed across her face. Curly and Mustard back away from the outer wall at that news, moving to join the rest of the group. You decide it’s probably in your best interests to join them and inch closer yourself. You have no idea what they’re talking about, but whatever it is seems like it might be good news - thank fucking _gog_. You decide to keep quiet and observe - maybe you’ll finally be able to figure one of these mysteries out.

Everyone keeps their eyes fixed on the shield as it shakes again, and Greeny starts a muttered countdown under her breath. “Three…”

“Two…” Carapace covered fingers and feathered claws scrape at the edges of the shield, loosening its hold on the wall. You clutch the sheet of metal tighter in your hands in preparation, not entirely sure what you’re waiting for but wanting to be prepared for whatever happens.

“One!” Several things happen in rapid succession the instant she hits one.

First - a dazzling rainbow of light rises from the floor and up the outside wall, sparking electrically with a multitude of colors as it rises to cover the entire wall.

Second - the shield explodes out of the wall as the assailants outside finally manage to beat their way in and the enemy floods through the reopened hole. The shield itself shoots inward and bounces erratically towards you until Greeny snatches it out of the air and swings it back into position in front of her in a practiced move you’re sure would kill you if you tried it.

And last but certainly not fucking least - the angels and imps that attempt to swarm inside are thrown backward upon contact with the apparently tangible wall of light. Judging by the shrieks and cries you hear, touching it results in extreme pain. _Good_ , those fucking things deserve it.

Huh.

You guess that’s the ‘special defenses’ they were talking about.

Pretty fucking impressive.

(you wish you’d thought of it)

“Thank fucking _cod_ ,” one of the other trolls breathes out. Tension seems to drain from the group all at once - as you watch they practically droop in exhaustion: Greeny drops her shield to rest against the floor and leans on it heavily. Bows lowers her weapon from its ready position, letting her bow go slack as she slumps weightily against the other girl.

Asshole is the only one who doesn’t relax immediately. “How do we know it won’t just fail again?” he asks, knives still gripped tightly in his hands.

Mustard snorts and slugs him in the arm - you notice the blueblood doesn’t move an inch despite what looked like a pretty solid hit (fucking bluebloods and their ludicrous strength). “They ain’t gonna fuck it up again,” he chides, “not right _now_.” He gives Asshole a pointed look. Asshole meets it for a moment before he seems to see something reassuring; he nods and relaxes his grip on his weapons.

At this point you decide you’re sick and tired of being ignored. You interrupt their moment of silence and remind them of your glorious presence. “Well that’th fucking great and all,” you drawl out sarcastically, “but what the _fuck_ ith going on?”

The strange group jumps at the sound of your voice and reels around to face you like they somehow forgot about your fucking existence. You take note of the various weapons pointed at your face and glare mulishly at them, refusing to be daunted. Despite the harrowing strife you all just went through together, suspicions are still high. You stare each other down for a long moment, neither willing to make the first move.

Finally, after the stretch of intense - and unproductive - silent staring has started to edge into something more ominous, Curly lets out a sigh and moves forward slightly. They lower their cross to a less obliquely threatening position (but not, you notice, back into their strife specibus). “My name is Isover Denieb,” they give you a politely nod, “we would like to thank you for your help. It is unlikely we would have survived without you.”

Mustard sneers derisively at that and the newly introduced Isover slams a sharp elbow directly into his gut without even looking in his direction. He immediately doubles over wheezing and Isover just smiles placidly at you. You resist the urge to be frightened (it’s surprisingly difficult). Also - when the fuck did this turn into an introduction session??

Greeny steps forward to join her friend with a (mostly) friendly smile on her face. She slips her shield back into her specibus, most likely in an effort to put you more at ease. It doesn’t work. “I’m FaiyetAuriga,” she says brightly, “we reallydo appreciate yourhelp!” She rockets her smile up a notch and nudges Bows with her elbow. The other girl nudges her back lightly and dematerializes her weapon as well.

“Danell Rubahl,” Bows announces with an actual fucking _flourish_ of her hand. You stare distrustfully at her, immediately suspicious of her aggressive cheerfulness. She keeps smiling at you and gestures imperiously for the two boys to introduce themselves. They do as prompted, visibly displeased with this turn of events and grumbling the whole time.

After a moment of vehement glaring Asshole grunts “Ketras.” You are genuinely disappointed you now have a proper name for him. You promptly decide to disregard that name and keep calling him Asshole forever.

Mustard glowers at you through squinted eyes. You scowl right back and notice that despite your previous thoughts he actually does have two horns - the one on the left is broken off at the base and is barely visible through his hair. Finally, after a long pause where everyone holds their breath, he grunts out a terse, “Ceiros.”

Neither of them relaxes their hold on their weapons even a single iota.

And now you know their names. Isn’t that just _great_. So _helpful._ You roll your eyes behind your glasses and think unhelpful thoughts. “Thollucth Captor,” you reply, resisting the urge to rub your aching face.

“We know,” the girl formerly known as Greeny says, the uncomfortable smile still stretched across her face. Well isn’t that just creepy, you think, leery of her and her creepily toothy grin. “We reallydo appreciate thehelp,” she repeats.

You twitch in irritation. “Yeah yeah, fucking wonderful to meet you - but that’th not what I fucking _athked_.” You know they’re being deliberately obtuse now. “ What. _The fuck._ Ith GOING ON??” You’re practically shouting by the end, fucking _done_ with asking the same questions over and over again.

Unfortunately, the other trolls don’t seem to be fazed by your anger. You watch as they exchange another furtive look and feel your temper tick up another notch in response. You cross your arms and resist the urge to stomp your feet like a wriggler as you’re forced to wait again for one of them to speak up.

“It’s… hard ta explain,” Bows- _Danell_ starts hesitantly, looking at her compatriots for assistance as she trails off uncertainly.

Your fellow yellow blood snorts. “More like none a your fuckin’ business,” he derides, stepping closer to you in a manner he seems to think is threatening.

You’re not feeling fucking threatened. Actually, you’d say you’re currently nearing on royally fucking _livid._ You take a step forward yourself and growl out a low, “Fuck that.” You glare heatedly as you continue your advance. “Out of the goodneth of my fucking bloodputhher, I fought through a horde of fucking abominationth jutht to THAVE _your_ _thhitty atheth_ , tholey on the whim of a fucking pampered _prince_.”

You draw up level with the group and take advantage of your superior height to stare them down. “And you have the fucking GALL to try and tell me that it’th none of my _buthineth?!_ ” By this point you’re shouting at them, but you don’t fucking _care._ Someone needs to start explaining this shit before your head fucking explodes. “Fuck _that_. I came here becauthe ED fucking _begged_ me too, and if you won’t tell me what the fuck ith going on _then I will find. Thomeone. Who will_.”

You’re breathing heavily as you snap your mouth shut and seethe. You’re not used to talking so much all at once - you communicate primarily via Trollian and as a result are unaccustomed to talking for any significant lengths of time - it’s fucking _exhausting_.

Alas, your outburst doesn’t seem to have moved the other trolls much. Ceiros and the Asshole growl threateningly at you, but Danell and Isover hold them back from going at you. You scowl deeply and glare harder, as if you can force them to sway to your whims with your mind.

But you’re not Vriska - powerful though you might be, you don’t have the ability to control trolls. They remain silent and distant, unmoved. So with a growl of frustration, you break away from the pointless staring contest and twist on your heel, heading for the door you spotted earlier in the rear wall. Hopefully, it’ll lead you farther into the ship.

And, if you’re lucky, to some fucking answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, even if it's probably very confusing! Next chapter will probably be up in a week, and hopefully more will be revealed! (it won't :P )
> 
> Fun fact - I was looking up large sailing ships as I tried to figure out what I wanted Eridan's hive to look like and found out that one of the largest ship's in the world was called Caligula's ship o.O  
>   
> Also, a common execution method used by Caligula was to cut people in half, which I found out randomly in a book about terrible facts. Life is weird - Hussie is weirder.
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _You fake a cough to remind them of your presence, raising an eyebrow when they look at you and crossing your arms. “Tho,” you drawl, “Answerth.”_  
>   
>  _They share a look before Faiyet turns to you, mirroring your pose. “You’ll getthem,” she promises, “but Eri’s… alittle unavailable rightnow. You're goingto haveto wait. I can-”_  
>   
>  _“No.” you cut her off, not willing to be kept in the dark any longer. “I’m not waiting. Whatever fithhthtick ith doing, he can take a break tho he can explain what the hell he called me here for.” you tell her, straightening up to your full height so that you tower over her._
> 
> EDIT 05/01/2017: minor changes, better grammar, fixed some words.


	4. ==> Sollux: onward to answers, brat!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux fails to storm off, meets a new troll, has a strange dream, and gets his brain blown. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ugh. Sorry this is late, guys! I decided at the last minute to cram two chapters together so that we could get on with the plot, and it ended up being a lot longer than expected! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Some things get revealed, here, if you're reading carefully, though some of them probably won't make sense til later!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sollux, swearing, OC's, crappily written dreams, Sollux, ooc behavior... mentioning anything else would be spoilers, but read the tags, it's all there!

**== > Sollux: onward to answers, brat!!**

You make it halfway out the door before one of them calls out after you.

You twitch to a stop and turn to back around to face them. The green girl, Faiyet, has stepped out of the pack, her hand outstretched as if to stop you. The other’s stare at her questioningly, but make no move to interfere. There’s a conflicted expression on her face, but it’s clear she was the one who called out.

There’s a long moment of silence where she seems to struggle with her thoughts. Her mouth opens and closes several times, but nothing comes out. You’re just about to turn around again and leave when she finally breathes out a faint, “Okay.”

It takes the whole block by surprise.

“What?” the asshole Ketras gapes (a fitting expression for his stupid face, you think uncharitably), and there’s a flurry of noise and movement from the rest.

“But-!”

“Fai, we _can’t!_ ”

“Er wouldn’t -”

“Eri’s not _here!_ ” the girl snaps with a fierce frown, breaking through the din and rendering the others silent. “And this  _isn’t_ normal circumstances! Everything’s differentnow and we’re gonna needhelp to dealwiththis!” She stares them down with fire in her eyes until they subside, grumbling but no longer protesting.

You wonder what the fuck they’re talking about. The place in your mind that has access to doomed futures sits up and nudges you, and you re-commence your worrying. You don’t like not knowing what’s going on.

Faiyet turns back to you with a hard stare and you unconsciously stiffen up under her gaze. “Okay,” she repeats, and steps closer.

“You’ll tell me what the fuck ith going on?” you challenge, shaking off the creepy feeling that she sees right through you. You’re about to let yourself be intimidated by this little slip of a troll, barely out of wrigglerhood. Youre six fucking sweeps old and you are going to be treated like the adult you are.

“I’ll takeyou to Eridan,” she barters back. “Andif he wantsto, he’ll explainit.” She narrows her eyes, observing your reaction. “It’s thebest you’re goingto get,” she tells you when you growl. “I don’tknow everything myself, anyway,” she admits. “And Eriis theone who gotyou here. Heshould tellyou.”

You narrow your eyes and inspect her, trying to figure out if she’s being truthful. You don’t particularly _want_ to see Eridan, and you’re not sure you’ll get a straight answer out of him even if you do. But you also don’t feel like trying to force answers out of these trolls, not when there might be an easier way to get what you want. Besides, if you don’t end up getting some answers through this, you can always go back to your original plan of gallivanting around on your own until you figure this shit out.

“Fine.” You nod grudgingly to the green girl, and she sighs a quick breath of relief.

She turns back to the others, squaring up her shoulders again. “Okay,” she starts, and you’re beginning to think that might be her favorite word, “Here’s whatwe’re gonnado.” The others turn their full attention to her, though you notice that some of them glance at you occasionally, wary of your presence. (You approve.)

She turns to the other girl first. “Dany, you comewithme. We gotta checkon theothers and seethedamage.”

Danell eyes you for a quick moment, face blank, then turns back to Faiyet and smiles. “Sure thin’, boss!” She gives a sharp, somehow sarcastic, salute. Faiyet nods back with a warm smile and turns to the others.

“Kers, Issy, youguys stayhere and fixup thewall, okay? We don’twant anything gettingin.” The blueblood grumbles heatedly, but Isover nods in agreement and places a hand on his arms in warning. “Ceir, Ineed you togo checkin with SecondSquad and see what happened ontheirend.” The yellowblood looks strangely eager as he acknowledges the order. Faiyet smiles slightly back and draws her eyes over the whole group again, nodding firmly.

“Okay, Vanguard, timeto moveout!” she orders, and the rest echo her with varying levels of enthusiasm and turn to their assigned tasks. Ceiros shoots you a glare as he pushes roughly past you and out the door, while Ketras seems to be intentionally ignoring your existence. Isover looks at you for a moment, expression blank, and then turns to join the blueblood at the broken wall, dismissing you.

Everyone else taken care of, Faiyet turns to you. She’s smiling as she approaches you, but it’s visibly strained. “Okay,” she says, and nods briefly to herself, “Okay, let’sgo.”

You bare your fangs in something that could be considered a smile (if you were blind) and gesture for her to lead the way. “After you.”

She marches past you to the door. You wait until Danell follows her to move, unwilling to have either of them at your back. The door takes you to an empty hallway lined by more doors on each side. You trail a few paces behind, careful to keep an eye on the trolls remaining behind as you leave. They don’t so much as spare you another glance, but you don’t feel comfortable until the door is shut and you’re more than a corridor away.

Faiyet leads the way at a brisk pace, Danell close on her heels. You keep half your attention on them as you look around, cautious of them. Cautious of everything, actually. The feeling of unease that crept back in after the battle is still turning unpleasantly in your feed storage unit.

(Or that could just be the aches and pains of your battered body screaming at you. No way to tell, really.)

You don’t trust these trolls - you know they’re hiding something from you, and you’re not happy about it. Besides, you’re still pretty amped up from the anti-climatic ending to the battle, and your adrenaline glands are pumping hard as you come down. You trail your eyes carefully over your surroundings, taking advantage of the silence to scope out ED’s hive.

The walls and floor of the corridor and the block before are all constructed from some kind of dark wood you can tell with a glance is highblood quality. No way in hell would you have had access to shit that nice back on Alternia - not with the swill running through _your_ veins. The doors in the passageway are uniform; a slightly rounder shape than what you’re used to, made of some kind of white wood you’ve never seen before and adorned with gleaming metal handles. All the doors you pass are unlabeled and closed tight, and there are way more than you would ever know what to do with. There are light grubs spaced evenly along the ceiling, providing a soft sort of light that makes it easy to see without being too bright for a trolls primarily nocturnal eyes.

It’s… different, than what you would have imagined (if you’d ever put any thought into what Eridan’s hive was like - which you _haven’t_ ). If someone had asked you, you probably would have told them that odds were it would be some kind of gaudily decorated place that screamed his status and blood color from every angle. You definitely would have placed money on there being an abundance of gold and jewels and treasure; most likely some musclebeast art, too (highbloods are into that shit, right?). You would have bet your husktop on there being weapons everywhere. At the very least, you would have expected more violet.

The reality of the place is much different. Much more understated in the evidence of the wealth and status of the owner. It’s bare, depressingly so, with nothing in anyway personal that you can see. There are no piles anywhere, or any items left lying around, forgotten, to show someone lives here. There aren’t even any marks you can see to show this place is inhabited - like scuffs or scratches or dirt. Not even the kind of markings you’ve seen in any hive you’ve been in (including your own) left by over eager wrigglers high on youth and unwilling to listen to their lusus.

Instead, the place is sparsely furnished. The only hints of color you can find are in the lush carpets covering the floor, unmarked but for a few sets of tracks here and there, leading in and out of the blocks you pass by. Tables are set at the junction of some of the corridors, flanked by the plushest seating holds you’ve ever seen. The whole setup is old fashioned, neat and classic - like something straight out of some post-adultmolt photobook. It’s completely devoid of personality, like a hive newly built by the drones - one created by the most uncreative wriggler in existence. It feels like something that hasn’t yet been touched or lived in, like it’s waiting for something.

In some strange way, it makes you feel sad.

Your hive, shitty and small and crowded as it usually is, with its piles of spare wires, humming beehive-mainframes, empty cans of Troll Monster strewn everywhere, shitty Biclops of a lusus chained to the roof and the worst neighbors in existence - is still loads better than this. This place is so… empty. Like a computer page before you start coding, blank and useless and with so much potential. But worse, because no one bothered to fill it out, and just closed it without saving instead.

What must it be like to live in a place like this? Devoid of anything to make it  _yours?_

For a moment, you think you might feel something like understanding for ED’s desperate need for attention.

You shake the feeling away hastily. You don't _want_ to understand anything about the annoying seadweller, and there’s no fucking way you’re starting to feel anything like sympathy for the fishdick. What ever went into making and decorating this hive, ED put it in _himself_ , so anything off is his own damn fault. It’s just like him, to complain so loudly about something he can so easily fix.

You turn your attention back to the trolls in front of you, unwilling to follow that train of thought any farther. They seem to know exactly where they’re going, walking fast down the hallways and taking turns without pause when they come to intersections. You have no idea how they do it. The whole place looks the same to you, and already you have no idea how you’d get back to the block you came from - or anywhere else for that matter.

Well, here’s hoping they aren’t taking you somewhere to murder you, then, and you try to keep a closer eye on your route as you continue on.

After a few more minutes of walking (how big is this fucking ship?!! Shitty ass rich fucking highbloods), a countless number of blank corridors, and two stair cases, something finally changes. The hallway you’re in widens as it leads to a set of ornate double doors, closed tight. Outside of them stands a troll.

You see the fins fluttering on the side of their face and for a second you think it’s Eridan, but then you see the purple symbol on their chest, too blue to be ED’s, and the horns, though wavy, are too vertical. Also, the new troll is a girl. So yeah, not Eridan.

The new girl is around the same age as your guides, you’d guess, and clearly a seadweller despite the vivid purple on her shirt telling you her blood should be too warm for that. Which makes her one of those weird land/sea combos that fall on the edge of the divide - the ones that only manage to avoid being culled as mutants because of their high status (fucking lucky highbloods - nothing bad ever happens to _them_ ). She’s holding a large reflective disk in her hands and stands outside the door like some kind of guard, though you don’t know what the fuck she’d be guarding. Faiyet and Danell walk straight up to her and you follow. This time they don’t stop talking when you approach, so you’re able to hear the end of their conversation.

“... theyall checkedin?” Faiyet is asking as you shamble up, and the new troll nods.

“They were all with Helios the entire time,” she confirms, voice low and soothing, “Most of them weren’t even aware of what was going on.”

“Good.” Danell says with conviction. Faiyet nods in agreement, sighing in relief.

The seadweller’s eyes travel to you, and your two guides follow her gaze.

You smirk lazily, trying as hard as you can to present the air that you don’t give a fuck about anything (you give so many fucks, oh my gog), and give a gaudy little wave. “Yo.”

She squints at you, suspicious, and holds her reflective disk closer, clearly wary of you. It’s a mirror, you realize, and what’s she gonna do, scare you off with your hideous reflection? You’re not Troll Medusa.

“It’s okay,” Faiyet assures her, stepping between you. “He’s oneof Eri’sfriends,” she explains, and you snort. Eridan’s friend - what a funny joke. Danell glares at you, and you raise your hands placatingly and back off. You’re not Eridan’s friend, but you’re not gonna squabble over it with these guys, not when it’s becoming pretty damn clear that for some  _unfathomable_ reason they actually seem to _like_ the fishstick.

The purple seadweller gives you a hard look, then turns back to Faiyet without a word to you (you’re only a little insulted). “Have you heard anything?” she asks her quietly, a worried look crossing her face.

Faiyet’s expression falls as well. “No.” she denies shortly, cutting a quick look at you, “not yet.” There’s silence for a moment as the two of them stand there, despondent.

“It hasn’t been that long since it started,” Danell hurries to reassure them. “Ya know how long it took last time!” They both perk up a bit at her cheer, though they remain visibly stressed. And despite her words, it’s obvious that Danell shares their tension.

You have no idea what they’re talking about, but that’s clearly the point - they’re being incredibly vague in an effort to not give you any more clues than they have to, and it’s pissing you the fuck off.

You fake a cough to remind them of your presence. When they turn, you raise a sardonic eyebrow and cross your arms, the picture of impatience. “Tho,” you drawl, “Anthwerth.”

The three of them share a look, two parts considering and one part confused. Danell shakes her head slightly, and Faiyet sighs in response. “You’ll getthem.” She folds her arms in front of her, stepping up to you. “But Eri’s - alittle unavailable rightnow. You’re gonnahave towait. Ican-”

You step forward yourself, cutting her off. “I’m not waiting.” You narrow your eyes and growl. “Whatever fithhdick ith doing, he can take a fucking break to explain what the fuck he called me here for. He _oweth_ me.” You straighten to your full height, for once glad of the recent growth spurt that shot you up practically overday.

Faiyet stiffens at your threatening posture, straightening out herself in an effort to match. (It doesn’t do much good - she’s clearly at least a sweep younger than you, and the only people you know who are taller than you are EQ and GZ). “Itreally _can’t_ ,” she snaps back, forced smile nowhere to be seen and eyes blazing, “so ifyou aren’t goingto leave then you’re gonna haveto _wait_ -”

“I am _not_ waiting.” You repeat, spreading your stance and lowering your head slightly to point your horns at her in a not-so-subtle threat. Your psionics heat up in tandem with your rising temper, setting off sparks at the tips of your horns and casting what you know is an unsettling blue and red glow behind your eyes. “Take me to him,” you order, in your best attempt at a commanding voice.

To your surprise, Faiyet actually shrinks back at your posturing, lowering her head to angle her horns away from you in surrender. Granted, she doesn’t seem to be aware she’s doing it - but you didn’t think your cliched ploy for authority was actually going to _work_. Huh. Guess those schoolfeeds on troll body language weren't total bullshit, after all. She quickly realizes what she’s doing and straightens up again, but by then it’s too late - she’s already seeded control of the situation to you, and everyone here knows it. She glares at you like she wants to rip you limb from limb, but you’re too smug at your success to be overly worried.

“Fine,” she spits out, “I’ll takeyou tohim.” Before you can get too smug with your win, she smiles viciously at you. You narrow your eyes, wary of the sudden change of attitude. “You’ll probably haveto wait anyway,” she taunts.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses (not that anyone could tell). “Fine,” you echo mockingly. If she thinks you’re actually going to  _wait_ for fishstick to make time for you after calling you here then she’s in for a big fucking surprise. You decide not to mention that part, though - you know when to pick your battles (mostly).

She wrinkles her nose, clearly frustrated at your nonchalance, and turns back to her companions. “Ris, you makesure everyone staysput and keeps awatchout foreachother, okay?” she tells the unfamiliar troll, who nods, pulling out a small communication device and turning away to watch the corridor again as she types on it. “Dany, you checkon HomeBase and makesure they knowwhat they’redoing.” The jade pulls a face, but nods.

“I’ll check on the idiots,” she agrees, “Keep an eye on your handhusk, kay? I’ll keep ya updated.” She makes a ‘v’ with her fingers and holds them out to Faiyet, who grins and returns the gesture to form a diamond. “Lemme know how he is.”

Faiyet smiles simperingly at her, and you look away and swallow any sounds of disgust at their indecent display of public pale affection. Ew - keep that stuff in the pile - no one wants to see that. “Iwill,” she promises, and they break apart. Faiyet turns back to you, scowl slipping back onto her face as she does so.

“Let’sgo, then,” she tells you, clearly displeased at the whole situation. You smile winningly at her, and she scoffs in distaste, turning and heading for a smaller door to the side of the hallway. She doesn’t look back to see if you’re following, and you hurry to catch up.

As you go through the door, you chance a look behind you at the large double doors, now slightly open as Danell slips inside. You catch a glimpse of several bright colors, flashes of movement, and the unmistakable orange to yellow gradient of troll horns. There’s a blare of noise, the sounds of trolls talking and moving and arguing. Then the door slams shut again and it cuts off, and the purple seadweller moves in front of the doors again. She narrows her eyes when she notices your staring, and you turn away, the door shutting behind you.

Was that - trolls? More of them? From everything you’ve heard so far, you were already beginning to suspect there were more trolls here than the few you’d seen. But it’s one thing to suspect, and another fucking thing entirely to have what might be proof. You feel like normally you’d be freaking out about that right now, but you’re pretty sure your threshold for shock broke sometime during the fight with the angels, and all you feel is a dull surprise. You don’t know for sure what’s in that block, but right now it’s just another question to ask, joining the myriad circling your mind.

You shove the questions aside and focus back on the here and now. You watch Faiyet as the two of you walk down corridors and hallways. Every so often she’ll open a door to reveal a staircase, gradually leading you farther down. You notice after a few hallways the windows lessen and eventually disappear entirely as you wind slowly inward. The corridors are all the same, uniform pale doors and dark walls, and you realize abruptly you’re completely fucking lost.

“Where are we going?” You have the sudden thought she might be leading you away from the others to murder you - but that’s ridiculous. If she was gonna try to kill you, she doesn’t need to get you alone for it. She spares you a glance, eyes hard, but doesn’t stop walking.

“To Eri.” Her voice echoes slightly in the wide hall. The further down you go the quieter the ship gets, creating an eerie ringing that sends your mini-spines straight up in warning. She turns forward again and falls silent.

The longer you walk in silence, the more your temper cools as your irritation starts to fade away. Instead, a sense of unease starts to creep over you. You don’t know what’s going to happen when you finally get your answers, and the ominous feeling welling in the back of your mind is telling you that you might not like what you hear. Unfortunately, your moronic sense of curiosity won’t let you leave before you get your answers. Fuck.

You go down staircase after staircase, and so many hallways you lose track. Faiyet seems to be steadfastly ignoring your presence, in fact, and you stay silent as well. In the quiet, it takes you a while to notice the noise, so gradually does it creep into the air around you.

But soon enough you notice a noise that wasn’t there before.

“What wath that?” You look around warily. A faint keening has started up, an eerie sound that sends shivers down your vertebrate stem and makes sparks flash across your brain in anticipation.

For a long moment it seems like Faiyet is determined to ignore you. She keeps walking down the staircase as if you haven’t said anything, and you scowl, ready to repeat your question (probably more rudely) when she answers without looking at you.

“Atroll,” she informs you, and says nothing more. Now you really do glare (she can’t see it, walking in front of you as she is, but it makes you feel better).

“‘A troll,’” you repeat back, completely monotone. By now the sound has grown loud enough you’re able to identify it as the sound of a lone troll in pain yourself. “Thankth, that’th real fuckin’ helpful. Could not have figured that one out for mythelf.”

You’ve reached the end of the staircase, stepping off the last step and onto the floor with a splash. You look down to see the floor is covered by about an inch of water that laps lazily around your feet.

Faiyet is a few paces ahead of you, and she stops abruptly, turning to face you. You halt as well and match the look, unwilling to back down.

She stares at you for a moment. It feels like she’s able to see inside you as she looks you up and down, and you refuse to squirm under her stare, no matter how much you want to. “I don’t trust you,” she finally blurts out, each word carefully paced. And yeah, you’d figured that out yourself - you don’t trust her, either. “I’ve _seen_ how dealing withyou leaves him, and I don’tlikeit.” She glares at you, and she doesn’t say it, but you know she’s talking about Eridan, though you have no idea what the fuck she’s talking about otherwise. She narrows her eyes again, a dark look threading over her face. You remain silent, waiting, and give her nothing. Finally, she sighs, shoulders drooping. “But he asked foryou, so Iwill take you tohim.”

You open your mouth to respond, but she narrows her eyes in warning and you break off. “However,” she starts, tensing up again as she leans into your space, her hands clenching rapidly in the way of one who’s resisting reaching for a weapon, “if you hurt him, or _them_ , Iwill _break_ you, Sollux Captor.”

She spits the threat with such conviction and promise that for a moment you believe her.

But the moment passes, and once again she’s just a tiny troll trying to be bigger than she is ( ~~just like all of you, really~~ ). You scoff and sneer back, crossing your arms over your chest as a dismissal. She growls, and you roll your eyes. “Fine, fine, I won’t hurt your prethiouth ‘Eri’,” you promise flippantly, “let’th jutht get thith over with already.”

She looks you over again, eyes hard, clearly able to tell you aren’t taking her seriously. Still, she seems to realize that nothing she says will get through to you, and she lets out a loud huff through her nose and turns on her heel, stalking away down the corridor again. “You’dbetter hopenot,” she growls, and you shrug nonchalantly and trail after her.

The rest of the walk is spent in complete silence between the two of you. Faiyet leads you through twisting corridors where the walls grow progressively damper and the keening sounds of pain get louder and louder. The farther you advance, the more of the noise you can hear - high whines and low panting join the keening, and just hearing it sends pangs through you that make you crave your moirail. Which is fucking stupid, because you don’t _have_ a moirail, not since -

You don’t have a moirail, and you don’t fucking _need_ one.

But whoever’s making those noises clearly does. Just listening to them makes your bloodpusher race out of control with the urge to make the noise _stop_ \- a troll is calling desperately for their moirail, so deep in their pain they can’t help advertising it to anyone in range. In front of you, Faiyet gets more and more tense the closer to the noise you get, but doesn’t look surprised. Your bloodpusher clenches in sympathy pain as the noise resonates within you, and thousands of years of evolution urge you to call back in comfort, but you squash the urge hard and keep your trap shut tight.

Because you are 98.2222% certain the troll making those sounds is Eridan. And you are 100% certain you do not _want_ it to be Eridan.

Fuck.

Is- is this why he called you here? For comfort?? To try and get you to play moirail for him by using your instincts against you??

Well fuck _that_ \- there’s no way you’re going to do something like that for him, no matter _how_ pathetic he might sound. You’re stronger than your instincts, and you won’t let them control you.

But - even ED isn’t that bad, right? He can’t possibly be that messed up, no matter how much of a shithead he is. Right??

Gog, this is so messed _up_. The increase in enemy attacks. The countless days spent working on figuring out this shitty game instead of on sleep. The ROBOTECTORS. This tiny well trained _army_ of fucking _wrigglers_ who are familiar enough with ED’s hive they can traverse it easily. KK’s nagging. The ringing silence in your head. The legion of monsters circling outside. The pathetic stifled wails echoing along the walls. This fucking _game_. ~~_Aradia--_ ~~

\- you wish someone would just explain what the fuck is going _on_ -

“We’re here.” Faiyet’s voice breaks you violently out of your thoughts, and you almost run into her when she stops abruptly. She doesn’t seem to notice, focused entirely on the door in front of you.

The door is the same as all the others you’ve passed, and would be entirely unremarkable if not for the fact that, now you’re actually paying _attention_ , it’s obvious the agonizing sounds are coming from behind it.

You stare at the door, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. A shiver runs down your vertebrate stem, raising all the tiny sensory spines covering it. You glance at Faiyet. She stares at the door with a pained expression on her face, but makes no move to approach it.

Something whispering in the back of your thinkpan is telling you that opening the door will change everything - which is frankly _ridiculous_ , and extremely over-dramatic. The only thing behind that door is Eridan, and nothing he does is going to change _anything_. You refuse to let it.

You steel yourself and reach for the handle.

“ _No!_ ” Faiyet grabs your hand before you can make contact, jerking it to the side as she intercedes bodily between you and the door. Your surprise works against you, allowing her to push you back towards the opposite wall with a startling amount of strength. “Nonono  _no_!! Youcan’tgoinside!!”

It takes you a minute to gather your wits enough to push back, and by that point she has you against the wall. You manage to force her back enough to get her out of your face, but she’s stronger than she looks and you can’t get her off you. She’s too close for you to use your psionics, still weak as they are from the previous fight. “What the _fuck_ ,” you splutter, confused by this sudden turn of events.

“You can _not_ go inside,” she repeats, voice like iron.

“Why the fuck _not_ ,” you growl back, your own anger rising in response.

She hisses in your face, and a small circular object appears in her hand. “Ifyou try to goin right now,” light glints off the edge of the circle and you realize with startling clarity it’s razor sharp, “Iwill fucking _kill_ you.” She rests the edge of the weapon against your throat, and you resist the urge to swallow. Her eyes gleam with a feral light and you know with chilling certainty she’s deadly serious.

You rein in your temper in an effort to avoid doing something remarkably stupid. “Why the _fuck_.” (Okay, so your attempts don’t work quite as well as you intend them too.) “Am I here. If I can’t. Fucking. _Go_ _in_.”

Faiyet snarls wordlessly and digs the sharp edge into your neck, drawing a line of blood and sending your bloodpusher pumping in double time.

“Okay! Okay!” you shout, unwilling to push back for something so fucking stupid, not when she’s clearly ready to murder you over this. “I won’t open the fucking door!”

The two of you stand frozen for a moment before she slowly withdraws her weapon, stepping back and releasing you.

You glare at her, rubbing at your poor abused neck. What is with these wrigglers and them throwing you against walls? “Now what?” you ask spitefully.

She glares right back, weapon still clutched in her hand. “We _wait_ ,” she tells you, and folds down to sit in front of the door, blocking your way.

“Wait? For what?” You’re here _now_ , what the hell else do you need to wait for?

“Forit tobe done.” She flicks her eyes quickly at the door, and you register that the pained noises haven’t stopped since you got here, despite your commotion definitely being loud enough to hear inside.

You shudder slightly, anger draining as you listen to the pathetic keening echo down the corridor. As much as it tugs at your bloodpusher to hear it, you find you’re not too keen on actually seeing what’s making the sound. You are suddenly okay with waiting a bit longer if it means you don’t have to confront those noises right now.

As you stand there, you find yourself swaying on your feet as the events of the night start to catch up with you now that you’ve stopped moving. You let out a long breath and slide down the wall to sit on the floor opposite Faiyet before you fall over. The water lining the floor is a cold shock, but you’re too tired to care as you lean back, settling in for the wait. You keep a wary eye on the girl across from you, and she returns the favor.

And then you wait.

It’s a long time.

The sounds behind the door fade and grow and the water around you soaks steadily into your pants. Your eyes flutter closed and open. After a while Faiyet returns her weapon to her specibus and pulls out a handhusk instead, turning her attention to it and proceeding to ignore you. You wish you had something to distract you as well, but unfortunately you left your hive in such a rush (it feels like it was ages ago, now) that the only things you have with you are what you were already carrying, which isn’t much.

Time stretches on. It’s uncomfortable and agonizing and _endless_.

Somehow you manage to fall asleep.

* * *

_“Hey! Sleepyhead! Wakey Wakey!”_

_Something hits you in the back, hard, and you groan weakly. You roll over, trying to ignore the shrill voice of your lusus. It’s way too early for him to be calling you, and for once you find yourself comfortable in sleep and unwilling to be woken._

_Another thump against your back, and you growl, annoyed. “Thutup! I’ll feed ya innabit, juth lemme_ thleep… _” You pull the snuggleplane covering you over your horns, hiding yourself in the comforting darkness._

_Wait._

_Something’s not right here._

_Sleepyhead? Snuggleplane?_ Lusus?

_You jerk violently upright, a movement which sends you careening head first right to the floor. You land hard on the floor in a tangle of limbs and fabric. Your horns bang off the ground and you turn the air blue with your swearing as you grab at them, disoriented. “FUCK!!”_

_A loud cackling interrupts your misery, and you try to jolt upright but only manage to entangle yourself more. You growl, finally managing to catch sight of the fucking asshole who’s mocking you, fully prepared to cuss them out for laughing at your pain._

_Until you see who it actually is._

_“TZ?” you blurt out, blinking like a hootbeast as you stare incredulously at her. “What the fuck??” And it is her, red shades and dragon cane (which you realize was what she was using to hit you before) and all. But she looks… different. She’s wearing some kind of weird yellow dress and bright red shoes, symbol and blood color nowhere to be seen. She’s grinning madly as she sits on the window ledge, swinging her legs back and forth and laughing dementedly at you. You’d be afraid that she might fall out the window in her hysteria, but she’s laughing at your pain, so you don’t really care._

_But... why is she here? Where is_ here _, at that? This isn’t - this isn’t right. You were somewhere else, before this, weren’t you? Something… was going to happen, but you were waiting for… something else to happen first? You think? But you’re pretty sure Terezi wasn’t there. And that there was not here._

_… that was confusing._

_“Where-?” you trail off in the middle of your question, looking around the block. Everything’s a dark mustard yellow that reminds you of the precise shade of your blood, with the exception of a few things here and there that are red and blue. You’re hit with an intense sense of deja-vu, but everything feels fuzzy and distant, like you’re looking at it through a thin sheet of static, and it takes you a minute to figure it out._

_It looks exactly like the block you woke up in on Derse, after you died and FF kissed you to wake you up._

_Shit._

_“Thhit,” you repeat aloud. “Did I die again?” The question comes out dully, but really, the issue doesn’t seem as important as it probably should._

_The question sends Terezi off into peals of laughter again, and you stare at her muzzily as she tries to collect herself enough to answer. “No, dummy!” she manages to get out, still chuckling, “you’re sleeping!”_

_You let that sink in as you finally manage to untangle yourself from the snuggleplane trapping you on the floor. “Huh,” you say, leaning forward and resting your arms on the edge of the circular platform you fell off of with Terezi’s rude awakening. “I feel awake.”_

_Terezi rolls her eyes, a move only recognizable by the way her eyebrows raise with it. “That’s cuz you’re on Prospit!” she explains, and starts to tap her cane against the wall. “You’re still asleep down wherever you are. But you were sleeping both places, before!”_

_You tilt your head. “Why’d I wake up?” you ask, though you’re not really sure if you actually care._

_“Good question!” Terezi smiles, pointing her cane at you suddenly. You twitch back, barely avoiding getting socked in the nose by it. “Because I woke you up, of course!”_

_Okay. “Why?”_

_Terezi hops off the window ledge, dropping fully into your block and striding confidently to where you’re still sprawled over the floor. “Cuz I needed to talk to you,” she tells you, face slipping out of its normal maniac cheer for a second. She reaches down and grabs your arm, hauling you upright with a firm grip. You go willingly with the movement, slipping out of the cocoon of fabric and swaying slightly before you get your balance. She looks up and manages to actually seem to meet your eyes, and you resist the urge to shiver as you stare into the glowing red orbs. The two of you remain that way for a few long moments._

_“What are you up to, Mr. Appleberry Blast?” she asks you, finally breaking the silence._

_“What do you mean?” You cock an eyebrow at her, thrown for a loop by her abrupt question._

_She narrows her eyes at you, eyebrows lowering suspiciously. “You’re doing something,” she informs you tersely, and duh, of course you are, everyone is. “Something important. But I can’t tell what it is.” She looks like this frustrates her._

_Something... important? You don’t know about that. You think about what you’ve been up to, lately, but the information is fuzzy, and the harder you try the less you can remember about what you were doing before you went to sleep. There was a fight, maybe, and you remember being angry, though you don’t remember why. But you don’t think Terezi was involved, either. It was… someone else, though you can’t think who. It all feels so distant, like it doesn’t matter if you remember or not, because everything will work itself out. “What am I doing?”_

_Terezi scowls. “I don’t know!” she snaps, and you remember that she said that already. Then she sighs, expression clearing abruptly as she calms herself down. “I can’t_ see _it,” she says, voice frustrated and hand clenching on your arm. She turns her head away, directing her empty gaze to bore into a wall._

_“Well, duh,” you say, “you’re blind.” She sends an acidic glare at you, surprisingly effective for all that it’s directed at your ear, and you snap your mouth shut._

_She lets go of your arm to smack you in the shins with her cane as punishment for your lame joke. You cringe and manage not to fall over through sheer force of will. “Shut up, of course I am, that’s not a thing that’s stopped happening, but I’m trying to be serious, here.” You let out a snort at that - Terezi and serious are not words that belong together. Terezi raises her cane threateningly and you subside immediately._

_She waits a second to make sure you’ll stay quiet and then continues. “There’s… ever since we started the game, or even before, I guess, I’ve known how things should be.” She starts tapping her cane against the ground again, several taps, a pause, and then repeated, creating a pattern. Four, one, three, you count. “Or, how they_ could _be, depending on what happens.” Her face wrinkles as she struggles to explain. “It’s just. I know how different actions and choices affect things, and I can_ see  _the best way to the most desirable outcome,” she tells you, “and whatever you’re doing- it wasn’t there before, as an option, or whatever. At least, I don’t think it was.”_

_She looks confused, which is good, because you have no idea what the fuck she’s saying. “Tho… I thhouldn’t be doing whatever it ith I’m doing?”_

_“That’s not it!” she snaps, clearly frustrated, though you think it’s directed more at herself than at you._

_“Tho I thhould?”_

_“I don’t know that, either!”_

_You both fall quiet at that, thinking._

_“Tho what do you want me to do?” you finally ask, and Terezi lets out a loud huff of air._

_“I don’t_ know _,” she stresses, raising her free arm and digging her claws into the hair around her horns, aggressively straightening the hair curled around them. “It’s too_ big _for me to see at my current level. I only know that it’s_ important _.”_

_“O… kay.” You don’t know what to do with that. “Tho neither of uth know what it ith I’m up to, but apparently it’th important, but you altho have no idea if I thhould even be doing it or not.” You fold your arms in front of your chest as you stare at her. She mimics your pose, nodding along as you outline the points. “Tho, in concluthion, we have no idea what’th going on or what to do about it, and are bathically exactly where we’d be without thith whole converthation.” Terezi nods again. “Why the fuck are we even doing thith, then?”_

_“So that you’d know that you need to be serious about what you’re doing for once,” she says, jabbing a sharp claw at you. You wince when she misjudges the distance and hits you hard in the chest. “You can’t take this lightly, or slack off like you like to do, Sollux!” Despite her harsh words, there’s a slight smile playing at her face again._

_You narrow your eyes suspiciously and bat her hand away. “And why’d you have to wake me up on Prothpit for thith? Wouldn’t it have been eathier to jutht Troll me about it? You know, back in the waking world where I might actually know what the fuck I’m doing?”_

_Terezi’s smile transforms into a full grin, rows of wickedly sharp teeth glinting in threat and amusement. “Sure! But then I wouldn’t get to smell your delicious scent!” You slump, groaning. Of course, what were you thinking. She cackles at your obvious dismay._

_After a moment she quiets again, and you look up to see her face smooth back out into a more serious look. “But seriously, Sollux, whatever you’re doing - it’s important, okay?” She tries to meet your eyes and ends up looking somewhere over your left shoulder. You readjust so that she’s actually looking at you. “I don’t know what it is, so I can’t tell you what you should do, but be careful, okay? Think things through - don’t let your temper get the best of you, and for the love of_ gog _don’t just_ ignore _it!”_

_You snort, mildly annoyed at her aspirations of your character. “I don’t have a temper,” you start, but she levels such a flat look at you that you ditch that train of thought. “Theriouthly, TZ, it’ll be fine.”_

_She studies you, sniffing the air to judge your honesty. She must decide that you’re being truthful, as she nods decisively._

_“Don’t screw up,” she tells you, uncharacteristically solemn, “This could be either really good or really bad, depending on how you play it. If you mess it up, we’re doomed.” She grins viciously. “Hey, no pressure, right?”_

_You scowl at her, but she takes no notice, turning around and heading towards the window. “Hey!” you call out, following her, a mix of humor and annoyance flooding you._

_She whirls around again before you reach her. “It’s okay, Sollux, I trust you,” she tells you, and the smile on her face is the softest you’ve ever seen. It’s why you don’t notice the cane swinging for your head until it’s too late. “But it’s really time for you to WAKE_ UP _-”_

* * *

You startle into full awareness, bloodpusher racing as you look around wildly, not sure where you are or what’s happening or if you’re in danger.

You spot Faiyet sitting stock still against the door opposite you, and feel the cold of the water lapping at your thighs and the ache in your head, and groan as it comes back to you. Right, right, you’re in ED’s hive because of that fucking stupid message he sent you.

And apparently whatever it is that’s happening here is actually really fucking important - so important that TZ felt the need to wake up your Prospitan dream self to tell you about it. The dream is already starting to lose clarity, but you do remember the warning she gave you (mostly) and the fucking whack to the head she used to wake you up. You make a mental note to get back at her for that.

It takes a couple moments of fuming in silence as you rub at your throbbing head before you realize that everything is eerily silent.

The agonizing noises have stopped.

You look at the door, staring hard as if that will let you see through to the other side and help you figure out what’s going on. Unfortunately, x-ray vision is not actually one of your powers, as awesome as that would be. You turn your gaze to your companion, trying to get a hint of what’s happening _now_. Her blank face and rigid stance give nothing away, however, and you open your mouth to speak. A clattering sound behind the door stops you before you can get anything out.

“Fai?”

It’s weak and faint and echoes strangely, but it’s undeniably Eridan.

The two of you jump on the door like bees on honey and you feel a profound sense of relief wash over you - _thank fuck_ , he’s _alive_.

Wait, what? That’s a bit too much relief for you to be feeling for the likes of the fish prince, and you quickly smother the feeling beneath layers of your ever-present irritation. Yeah, yeah, it’s great he’s alive, you didn’t fail ( ~~this time~~ ), _fantastic_. You force your thoughts back to the situation at hand.

Faiyet huddles against the door, kneeling in the water as she tries to meld herself into it. “EriEriEri _Eri_ ,” she chants desperately, suddenly looking sweeps younger as she digs her claws into the soft wood. Despite the fact that she’s clearly on the verge of tears, the anxiety and worry fades from her expression and is replaced by a look of intense relief. “ _Eri._ You’re _okay_.” She knocks her horns gently against the door a few times, generating a dull thud. You hear a faint tapping from the other side of the door in response.

“Is it ovver?” Eridan croaks, voice still faint and sounding like it’s coming from far away. “Is evveryone-?”

Faiyet snuffles a tearful laugh in response, and this whole situation is all so disgustingly pale you feel embarrassed watching it. There’s a sense of deep unease filling your feed storage unit.

(if they have this kind of relationship why the _fuck_ did she leave him alone when he was _hurting_ , gog, and didn’t she and that other troll do that diamond thing? And what about FF, did ED already fucking replace her, or was he cheating this whole _time_ -)

You push the thoughts away and concentrate on the here and now.

“It’sover. We’re _fine_.” She sniffles, pressing impossibly closer, “Well,” she amends, “Salf’n’Effie gotalittlehurt, but they’rewithJace ‘n’ shesaysthey’llbe _fine_.” Her words slur together more than they normally do and you can barely make out what she’s saying.

Apparently Eridan doesn’t have the same problems, as he lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank _cod_ ,” he says, and then falls quiet again.

Faiyet goes quiet as well, a dopey grin on her face as if all is right with the world now that she can talk to Eridan (which, _weird_ ), despite the fact that she’s kneeling in half a foot of bitterly cold seawater in the creepy depths of this vast hive, still covered in grit and blood from the battle and talking to him through a fucking _door_.

“I’m sorry,” Eridan breaks the silence, and okay, _what the fuck?_ Who is this troll who says things that ED would never say, and why does his voice sound like Eridan’s?? You didn’t think the royal fishfuck even _knew_ those words, let alone that he was capable of _using_ them. “I, I didn’t wwant to leavve you alone-”

Faiyet hurries to cut him off, _thank gog_ , before things fall even further into the daybreak zone. “It’s _okay!_ Weknow youdidn’twantto! Itwas just badtiming, it’s _not_ yourfault.” She shifts slightly, knocking her horns against the door again. “‘Sides, yougot the _mage_ tocome.” She cuts you a look from the corner of her eye, and you startle, suddenly reminded of your own presence in the situation. You grimace, and she narrows her eyes back, glaring at you like everything bad in the universe is your fault (which, granted, it generally _is_ , but come _on_ ).

There’s a sharp intake of breath from behind the door. “He _came?_ ” Eridan sounds shocked at the prospect, and you’re automatically insulted (even though you know that you almost _didn’t_ come, almost didn’t even check your _messages-_ ).

“Thtill here, actually,” you drawl, butting into the conversation and earning yourself another sour look from Faiyet. Whatever, she already hates you, you don’t care what she thinks (a lie - you care what everyone thinks).

The silence that follows is somehow shocked, though you don’t know how you can tell, exactly. Then, “W-wwhat?”

“Yo, fithhthtick, what up?” You stand up and step forward, ignoring the affronted noise Faiyet makes as you shoulder your way next to her. She draws her horns back from the door like you’ve somehow interrupted a private moment between them despite the fact that you’ve been here the _whole fucking time_.

“Itoldhim youwerebusy,” the green girl tells Eridan, glaring daggers at you, “Buthe wouldn’t _listen_.”

You snort, annoyed. “ _You_ called _me_ here,” you retort, “No way I’m gonna leave until I find out _why_.”

There’s another long moment of silence, and you’re really starting to hate this fucking door. How the fuck are you supposed to know what fishfuck is thinking if you can’t see his face and he’s being unnaturally silent?? You’ve half a mind to just force the door open, to hell with the little green spitfire and her threats. You’re not scared of her.

“S-sol?” Eridan breathes out faintly, and he sounds terrified, which only serves to piss you off _more_. What the fuck does he think you’re gonna do? You’re not a _monster_ , you’re not gonna hurt someone who’s in _pain_ (but you have, _haven’t_ you -)

“The one ‘n only,” you retort, burying that thought where it will never see the dark of night again. “Now if you would be tho _kind_ ath to explain what the _fuck ith going on?_ ”

Faiyet growls at you, standing up herself. “Don’tyoutalktohim likethat!” she hisses at you, giving a hard shove against your shoulder in an attempt to make you move away from the door. You glare and push back, succeeding in knocking her back slightly.

“Fai!” Eridan calls, voice urgent, and she bristles to attention, turning back to the door and dismissing you completely. “It’s _okay_ ,” he tells her, and she subsides instantly at his soothing tone. You find yourself at a loss for words - you never thought he could sound like that.

A moment later there’s a pained noise and she jumps at the door again, claws digging into the wood.

“How’reyou?” she asks gently, face a rictus of worry, “areyoudone?”

Fuck, they’re being cryptic again! Your anger, previously cooling in your distraction, surges back when Eridan doesn’t answer. Sounds come from behind the door, something like movement or the splashing of water, and the uncertainty of it makes you irrationally furious.

Very abruptly, you decide that you are _done_ with this shit.

“Fuck thith.” You move suddenly, stepping right up to the door before Faiyet has a chance to protest, and shove her aside. You grab the handle and finding it locked, gather the dregs of your psionics together and _shove_ at the door. It splinters inward with a horrendous crash and you stride into the block. “I am _thick_ of thith fucking _thhit_ , E-”

“ _NO!_ ” Faiyet roars savagely, and an instant later she collides with your back, knocking you off balance as she digs her claws into your shoulders and tries to drag you back out of the block.

The block is dark as pitch besides the sole light provided by a faint violet glow in the middle, and for a moment you can’t see anything. There’s a choked off noise you recognize as a startled shout and a loud splash as something ducks into the water and the light dilutes outward.

You’re moving to throw Faiyet off you when your eyes finally adjust and everything freezes.

It’s like a snapshot uploaded directly to your thinkpan as your eyes observe the scene but your brain refuses to comprehend what you’re seeing.

It’s a small block, empty of almost everything but a few random piles of towels and soft things. In the middle, the floor breaks open to a large spring of water.

Eridan’s in the middle of the pool, and he’s _fucking glowing_ , setting off the violet light that’s letting you see. He’s huddled in the water, cowering away from you.

Behind him is bundle of fabric that rests half in and half out of the water in a crevice of rock.

Inside it are five shiny troll eggs.

You can _hear_ it when your thinkpan cracks and starts trickling out your ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! I hope you enjoyed it! Let's hope the next chapter won't take as long, because omg this was exhausting!
> 
> But anyway, I have very wishy-washy feelings about this chapter. Somethings I really like, some things I really don't, but I've spent so long looking at it now I can't really deal with it anymore. Let me know what you think, okay??
> 
> Anyway, just keep in mind that Sollux, while he is our narrator here, does not have any fucking clue what's going on, and a lot of the assumptions he's making are very possibly wrong (something that will be good to keep in mind for the next chapter, as well). Hopefully things will get cleared up with him, soon, if he can stop running off with the narrative and do what I tell him!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _“But-” Faiyet starts to protest, and Eridan cuts her off, a gentle look on his face that makes you uncomfortable to see._
> 
> _“He already saw-w,” he says, “and 'sides, I’m not gonna be up for fightin' again for a w-while. W-we need a proper player w-while I’m down." He looks at you again, then darts his gaze away._
> 
> _“If you tell me what the fuck ith going on I’ll thtick around ath long ath you fucking need,” you tell him, and you mean it._
> 
> EDIT 05/02/2017: minor edits, changed how I depict Eridan's accent.


	5. ==> Sollux: what the hell are you doing??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux and Eridan finally get to talking, mostly over each other and in circles. But hey, we're getting there!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG 
> 
> This chapter. Was the _worst_. omg I wanted to get it posted on 4/13 for the anniversary, but ya'll can see how that worked out. This chapter did not want to cooperate, so let me know what you think of it!
> 
> I am half asleep posting this, so please point out any mistakes you might see!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: some swearing, Sollux, thoughts of violence, slight violence, Eridan, OCs, ooc behavior (somewhat), my shitty cliffhangers

**== > Sollux: what the hell are you doing??**

What the _fuck_ are you supposed to do?

You try to say something, possibly along the lines of _what?_ and _the fuck?_ and _saklfjdlfjsv?_ but you’re pretty sure the only thing you manage is an unintelligible string of high pitched gibberish.

You stare in shock, utterly frozen as shock steals the strength from your limbs. Faiyet is able to haul you back without resistance, but you barely notice, as all your brain function is currently dedicated to trying making sense of the nonsensical scene in front of your eyes.

The unexpected entry sends Eridan jerking back in the water, limbs tense and body shaking as he grabs the eggs, pulling them close and curling around them. He looks tiny, swallowed up by the size of the pool around him, and without the accoutrements you’re used to him wearing, or the attitude he normally wields like a weapon. His cape is nowhere in sight and neither are his glasses. His hair is a mess, and you’ve never seen him so unadorned. His face - which you’d previously only viewed through the grainy definition of Trollian video-chat - is paler than you’ve ever seen it and his expression is tight and guarded.

Your mind wild, you find your eyes focusing on inconsequential details. The stupid purple streak in his hair, plastered over his face and partially covering the glowing spots scattered over his cheeks. You’re drawn to the tiny dots of brightness, following the string of lights to the fluttering fins below his ears. From there your eyes flow to the larger freckles of bioluminescence covering his shoulders, dampened slightly through his thin, wet shirt. Your gaze lingers there for a long moment, distracted by the softly glowing lights - and then a sharp tug on your hair breaks you out of your daze.

Wrenching your eyes back up you take in his posture - and an incomprehensible feeling of unease spreads through you when you realize he’s cowering away from you. He’s attempting to make himself even _smaller_ than he already is, curling in on himself and shrinking in. His head tilts back to point his horns away from you as he bares his throat, gills fluttering and eyes diverted. Your brain struggles to comprehend what you’re seeing: ERIDAN AMPORA, he with the blood almost as cold as the Heiress herself, is presenting _submission_ to _you_ (the piss-blooded asshole good-for-nothing freak) in a blatant attempt to placate you into calming down.

It’s a fucking textbook move used by trolls who can’t fight to calm down a raging troll, but you’ve _never_ heard of a highblood using it. And  _fuck_ , but it’s _working_. You can feel your instincts settling somewhat in the back of your mind as Eridan seeds control of the situation to you.

The troll on your back and the fucking bizarre nature of the entire situation lessens the effect, but the lack of threat coming from Eridan helps calm your baser instincts enough you’re able to start processing things again.

Still, your eyes keep slipping back to where you saw the eggs before Eridan slipped in front of them. You’ve never seen troll eggs in real life before, only as images in schoolfeeds. But they’re unmistakable - brightly colored, gel-like, perfectly circular. You never expected to see them, for that matter. Eggs are kept specifically in the breeding caverns, out of sight of any troll but those with jade blood, and remain there until they hatch. To think of them being anywhere else is inconceivable. Where the hell did these ones come from? How the _hell_ did Eridan get a hold of them? _Why?_

You’re ripped out of your thoughts when Faiyet reaches up and grabs at one of your horn sets, digging her claws viciously into the sensitive flesh around them. You yowl in pain, thrashing around ineffectively as she uses the hold to drag you backwards out of the block.

“Getoutgetoutgetougetout _getout!!!_ ” she’s yelling in your ear, snarling as she slams you against the wall, actually managing to raise you a few inches above the ground (you manage to spare a thought of _what the fuck is with these trolls and throwing you into walls_ before _owowowowow fucking OW!_ ). She twists around, letting you slide down until your feet touch the floor before she appears in front of you again, bracing against you to keep you in place.

Her claws dig hard into your arms, deep enough to draw blood. “ _HOWDAREYOU!!_ ” she screams in your face, expression a terrible mix of hate and fury. You’re too shocked to respond, trapped in your own thoughts, and she snarls gutturally as she draws back a fist to punch you in the face.

“Faiyet!” Eridan calls out just before she makes contact and her fist stops centimeters from your face. Eridan’s voice is thin and reedy, weaker even than anything you’ve ever heard through your shitty noise-receivers. Faiyet’s arms begin to shake upon hearing it and her grip slackens slightly. Without her support you slump downwards before you manage to catch yourself.

“Stop, w-wwait,” Eridan rasps, tone soft and begging. Everything freezes for a long moment and you hold your breath, going cross-eyed as you lock onto the fist a breath away from breaking your nose. A breathless second, and very very slowly, Faiyet finally lowers her arm back,  reluctance clear in every line of her body.

“It’s, it’s okay,” Eridan stammers, coughing when he tries to raise his voice. You both turn at the sound, side-eyeing each other warily, still on edge. He’s still in the pool, curled around the eggs, and he looks scared and exhausted and nothing like how Eridan fucking Ampora should _ever_ look. It’s so incompatible with your mental image of ED that your thinkpan curls feebly upon itself attempting to understand it.

“It’s _not!_ ” Faiyet protests, eyes locked on you. She’s rigid, claws flexing rapidly as she holds herself back from jumping you again. “Get _out!_ ” she hisses at you venomously, eyes practically glowing as they bore into your own.

A low growl rumbles in your throat in response, and you meet her look for look, not quite sure what you’re fighting back against but intrinsically incapable of backing down from a challenge.

“Fai! No!” Eridan jerks forward out, coming halfway out of the water as he pleads with the girl. A second later he aborts the movement and falls back, sinking back in the pool but stretching out a hand in her direction. “It’s _okay_! Wwe n-need him!”

The desperation in his voice catches your attention, and you look back at him, forgetting about your display of aggression as you stare. He’s looking right at you, eyes wide and pleading, the glow on his cheeks casting eerie shadows on his face. “What?” you question, voice flat as you try to force your racing thoughts aside.

“ _What?_ ” Faiyet chokes out at the same time. She takes a hasty step towards Eridan, worry over taking her. “But-!”

He stops her short with a look, shaking his head slightly. The expression on his face is unrecognizable, but you think that you might call it gentle on anyone else. The younger troll subsides upon seeing it, energy draining out of her as she slumps slightly. She crosses her arms, still clearly frustrated, and spins to watch you through narrowed eyes.

Eridan looks back to you, and you struggle to hide your turbulent emotions. “Wwe need your help, Sol,” he says, clearly pleading, and for once his tone is absent of the over dramatic theatrics you’ve come to expect.

It’s weird it’s weird _it’s so weird -_

You force yourself to snort derisively, folding your arms in a show of practiced indifference. “Yeah? And what maketh you think I’m gonna help you out?” you challenge, voice deliberately hard.

He shrinks a little at your tone, eyes skittering away and expression freezing, which brings you up short - you were expecting him to snap back. Faiyet growls warningly, but after a second Eridan swallows and rallies again, waving her off. “ _Please,_ ” he says, and he’s outright _begging_. What the fuck what the fuck what the _fuck_ \- “You wwant to knoww wwhat’s happenin’, right?” You nod grudgingly when he pauses to look at you, and he continues. “If-if you stay an help, I’ll tell you evveryfin’.”

“No-!” Faiyet jumps in, surging forward, coming between you and Eridan as she kneels down in front of him, blatantly ignoring you now. “Wedon’tneed _his_ help!” she tells him desperately, “Me’nRis’nHeli’nSalf’nTare’ntheothers - we _got_ this, please! Youdon’tneedtodothis! We’llbe _fine-_ ”

Eridan cuts off her babbling with a light touch to her face, expression so achingly gentle you find yourself looking away, embarrassed to be watching it. She tucks into the touch, calming slightly, though you can still see her hands grasping wildly at the air.

“It’s _okay_ ,” Eridan soothes, voice soft and you are struck with the feeling that you do not belong here you need to _leave_ \- “Things are different, noww,” he tells her, “no one’s gonna go anywwhere cuz a this.” He darts a look at you and you start in reaction, but he’s already focused back on the girl. “But wwe _need_ a Player wwhile I’m dowwn.”

Faiyet raises a trembling hand to grip the one stroking her face, tension visibly draining from her as she calms. And nope - you are done with this whole scene, it is time for you to end it before things get anymore disgustingly pale.

“You tell me what the fuck ith going on and I’ll think about thticking around,” you interrupt hastily, making them both startle. You roll your eyes and look away as you give them a moment to separate. When you look back, neither of them even have the gall to look ashamed at their public lewdness, but they’re no longer touching so intimately, so you take it as a win. Eridan meets your gaze head on, searching your expression, and you let him. You meant what you said. You need to figure out what’s going on here - and not just for the sake of your curiosity. Terezi went so far as to wake you up on Prospit to tell you to pay attention to this, and despite her glib attitude you know that’s no small feet. Even your own intrinsic powers of foresight, entwined with doom though they may be, are prompting you to take notice. You’re not keen on finding out what happens if you ignore them.

(it’s never anything good)

Though it makes you a little sick to think that something so seemingly important is going to force you to work with this desperate, slimy fish. Someone out there is screwing with you, and you know it - there’s no way your life could be _this_ terrible on accident.

“Okay,” Eridan finally says, apparently finding whatever it was he was looking for. “Okay,” he murmurs again, more to himself. “If you stay, I’ll tell you,” he agrees, and sinks further down into the pool. He sounds like he’s agreeing to walk to his death, and paradoxically the hint of his usual dramatics actually helps to settle you.

“Uhhh, here?” you question, dubiously eyeing the damp walls and lack of suitable lighting or you don’t know - _floorspace?_ in the block. “Couldn’t we go thomewhere… elthe?” Something about the atmosphere is telling you that you shouldn’t be here, and it doesn’t seem conducive to any pleasant conversations. It’s probably the water - your thinkpan is screaming warnings at you about what a terrible idea it is to get close to a submerged seadweller, and you know it’s right. You glance at Faiyet, trying to get a read on the situation, but all she does is scowl thunderously, arms crossed as she leans against the wall, a thin veneer of calm stretched over her features.

Eridan casts a look around the block at your words, brow furrowing a little as he tries to figure out your problem with the block. “Here is fine,” he tells you, looking back, a tiny mou of confusion settling on his face.

You groan in exasperation and resist the urge to perform a 2xfacepalm combo. “Could you get out of the fucking water, at leatht?” you prod, careful to keep the annoyance out of your tone. It’s very difficult, as it is so very _easy_ to be annoyed with Eridan.

His eyes widen and he glances between you and the water a few times before he seems to catch on to your problem. You notice a strange flicker over his eyes but don’t have time to think about it before he starts talking again.

“I… can’t.” Eridan looks frustrated at having to admit that. It’s the closest you’ve seen him to his normal self since you got here, and the flood of relief that causes takes you by surprise. You push the feeling away and raise an eyebrow at his cryptic statement. “I havve to stay wwith them,” he tells you, and it’s clear he’s talking about the eggs.

Against your will your eyes dart down to look at them. A futile attempt, as Eridan is still keeping them hidden in the nest of fabric in his arms. You have no idea what he’s talking about, and see no reason why he wouldn’t be able to leave the eggs, or why he’d need to stay in the water for that. But then again your knowledge of troll eggs begins and ends with being able to identify them on sight. As far as you knew, it was the same for all trolls - standard schoolfeeds for all trolls covered only the most basic information on eggs. Except for those poor sods destined for the caverns, of which Eridan most definitely is _not_.

But fuck, you’re not gonna argue over this point _now_ , not when you’re just about to finally get some fucking answers. “Fine,” you mutter, pulling away from the wall and stepping through the door again. Eridan tenses up and Faiyet starts growling warningly, and you freeze, hands up and head back in an attempt to appear as nonthreatening as possible. After a moment Eridan relaxes slightly, and you start moving again, more slowly and keeping against the walls.

You don’t move far from the door, not too keen on leaving the one visible exit in case you need a quick escape. You settle next to it, leaning against the slightly damp wall and keeping your hands in sight to prevent any panic. Not that you really need any weapons to cause harm, or even your hands, for that matter, but it’s the thought that counts. Besides, it seems to set the other two trolls at ease, and you’re all for making this whole fucking thing as painless as it can possibly be.

Once it becomes clear that you’re set to stay where you are, Eridan addresses Faiyet. “Fai, you should head back to the others-” He keeps his eyes on you, however, watching your every move - fins flared out in display and the ears above them twitching. The seadweller accent in his body language throws you off a little, but it’s still a pretty clear warning that you’re intruding on his territory, and you roll your eyes. What a wriggler - who the fuck needs that much personal territory at _six sweeps?_  Fucking highbloods, apparently - but whatever, he’s still talking, “-they’re probably lookin’ for you by noww.”

Faiyet snorts contemptuously and tosses her head, short hair swinging. “I’m _not_ leavingyou alonewith this _jerk_ ,” she declares, face mulish. She doesn’t look at you, but there’s no doubt as to who the ‘jerk’ she’s talking about is.

You stick your bifurcated tongue at her in rebuttal and she grimaces, clearly disgusted. Eridan’s face remains blank and you draw your tongue back to its proper place, disappointed in his lack of response. You’re not sure _why_ he’s trying to send her away, especially when he’s clearly more comfortable with her close by, but you don’t particularly want her to stick around either.

Eridan darts his eyes to her for a second and you watch, fascinated when they flicker again. It’s his second eyelids, you realize, opening and closing quickly in lieu of proper blinks. FF’s shown you the phenomenon before, of course, but it’s somehow different when ED does it. Then he’s back to watching you warily, and you mourn the loss of the opportunity to observe more without him noticing.

At his look Faiyet seems to lose her will, sighing gustily and dropping her arms to her sides, pouting. “Fine,” she mutters, grudgingly, “I’mnot leavingyou, but I’llwait outside thedoor.” Eridan looks relieved, and she gives him a tiny strained smile. Then abruptly she narrows her eyes and turns on you, expression a hair shy of murderous. “But I’llbe _listening_. And if I hear _anything_ outofline I _will_ get rid ofyou.”

Ultimatum given, she whirls on her heel and out the door, pulling it up behind her and returning it to its rightful place in the doorway. It’s a sort of haphazard fix to your enthusiastic entry, but there’s not much else to do about it and it serves as a decent enough barrier.

You look back at Eridan and catch a soft, almost smile-like look on his face (it makes him look softer and almost pi- _nope._ fuck that thought straight to hell and back, you erase it from your mind). A second later he notices you looking and his expression falls back into something more like the blank, disgruntled grimace you’re used to.

Faiyet’s absence leaves an abrupt silence in the block as you and Eridan initiate a staredown, trying to get a read each other. You can hear Faiyet moving around outside in the hall for a few moments, and then that fades, too. The hush seems to grow the longer it lasts, and the louder it gets the higher the tension rises. In an effort to alleviate some of it, you heave a sigh and lean back against the damp wall, sliding down to settle on the floor. The ground here is covered in a few inches of water, but your pants have already been ruined by your long stay in the water outside, so fuck it. You rest your hands on your knees, keeping them in Eridan’s view, and slouch lazily against the wall.

Your efforts seem to pay off, as Eridan relaxes a smidge now that you’re no longer looming over him, and you take that as a sign to continue. You shift your head slightly to the side so it looks like you’re studying the far wall. Due to your freakish eyes he can’t tell that you’re still looking at him, but the facade allows for an illusion of disinterest. You make sure to keep your posture open and non-threatening, but you don’t allow yourself to relax completely. Despite the uncanny developments of the night, you haven’t forgotten who it is you’re dealing with. ED is still an overstuffed pompous fishstick, and you still fucking hate him. “Tho…” you prompt.

“So?” Eridan echoes you, his voice dull and face carefully empty.

You scowl. Fucking fishface. Well, fuck his attitude, it’s time to get down to business. “Tho what _the fuck_ ith going on here, ED?” The first question comes out and it’s like breaking through a firewall - everything, every single question or thought or shock that you’ve experienced in the last night wells up and it’s the best you can do to force it into something comprehensible.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” you burst out, unable to hold back anymore. “You contact me, _pleading_ for help, and then don’t even have the fucking _dethenthy_ to come out? And why the fuck did you contact _me?!_ We’re not friendth - why the fuck would you even think I’d come? What’d you even call me here for?” You’re deep into it now, unable to control the flood. Eridan looks shocked at your outburst, but you barely notice, too busy ranting. “If it wath to deal with your thhitty conthortth conthider that fucking _done_ \- what the fuck did you do to pith them off tho much, anyway? And what the fuck ith with all the fucking trollth infethting your hive?! Where’d they _come_ from, how are they even here?! And what’th wrong with you?? Why the fuck are you jutht laying here?! Nothing that’th going on maketh any fucking thenthe, leatht of all _you!_ And the eggth! The fucking eggth! Where the fuck did thothe come from?! Where did any of thith come from?!? _What the fuck ith going on, ED?!?!!_ ”

By the end of your outburst you’re shouting in his face, hands clutched into fists in your pants as your claws rip holes in the knees, barely restraining yourself from leaping at him and shaking him until he answers you. You pant, trying to regain your breath as you wait for Eridan’s answer, watching his reaction closely.

He’s inched away from you, cowering back as you shouted at him, and now he’s huddled as far back as he can go without leaving the bundle of eggs. He looks overwhelmed, fins fluttering like they can’t decide whether to flare out or pin themselves to his face; his mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries and fails to speak. You glower at him, holding yourself back as best you can while you wait impatiently for him to respond.

“I, I don’t, ah, knoww-w howw to, uh, answwer that,” he finally stutters out, eyes flickering as he tries to avert his eyes but knows you’re too much of a threat to leave unobserved.

You stare, mind unable to compute this meek and subdued troll in front of you with the arrogant and pretentious Eridan Ampora that you know. He looks shaky, muted and faded in a way you can’t reconcile with the violet blooded troll you’ve argued with before. You _do not_ like things you can’t understand, and it’s fucking pissing you off, and you can feel the tension in the block rising.

For a moment there’s silence again, the atmosphere stagnant as you watch each other. Eridan holds himself perfectly still, so motionless you’re not even sure he’s breathing, and you do your best to control yourself. If there was one thing TZ managed to impress upon you during your surreal dream, it was to keep your fucking temper in check - as hard as that may be - and you respect her enough to at least _try_.

Frustrated, you thrust a hand into your hair. You grab a fist full and tug roughly, using the sharp burst of pain to center yourself. You grit your teeth and pull harder as you force your emotions to settle down. Yelling at Eridan isn’t going to get you anywhere - not in normal circumstances and certainly not when he’s acting so strangely. As much as you like to see him get knocked off his high hoofbeast it’s not conducive to your goals at the moment.

A moment later you force yourself to release your hair, returning your hands to rest upon your knees and compel them to remain there through sheer force of will. “How about you jutht… thtart at the beginning,” you suggest, trying as best you can to keep your voice level.

Eridan is silent for another long moment, wary. Finally, he clears his throat, staring somewhere over your shoulder. “That’s difficult to, ah, place,” he says, clearly choosing his words with care. You scowl reflexively, and Eridan flinches inward like he thinks you might attack. You force your expression back to neutral, but it’s difficult. It’s pissing you off to see the usually pompous troll cowering, and you’re not necessarily buying the whole act, either. “M-maybe, you could ask, questions, instead?” he suggests, and his voice is getting steadier, even if his posture isn’t.

“Fine,” you snip - you honestly could not care _less_ how the fuck you get your answers so long as you start fucking _getting them_ . Eridan nods back, which you take that as an indication to jump right in. “Why the _fuck_ am I here?”

Eridan’s face does a funny little twist before he settles it into a practiced blankness. You watch closely - anything the fishmunch says should be taken with a pinch of salt, and you’re hoping that something in his expressions might help you figure out whether or not he’s trying to bullshit you.

“W-wwell, ah,” he starts awkwardly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, but then starts to pick up speed. “The angels wwere startin’ to group up again for the attack, an the defences wwere failin’,” he loosens up and seems to regain some of his usual confidence the longer he speaks, though you note he still won’t meet your eyes. “It woulda been fine if I w-was in fightin’ shape,” he adds defensively, shooting you a fleeting look to which you roll your eyes, “but it had already started by then, an the little one’s aren’t able to really fight them on their owwn,” he casts a look at the door, which has been almost suspiciously quiet for a while now. “So wwe needed another Player wwho could take them out, and you wwe’re the first one I could get ahold a.”

You take a moment to consider that. It seems legit, and tracks with what’s happened so far. Though really you probably could have figured this part out on your own. “Where’d thethe trollth come from?” you demand, casting your own suspicious look at the door. “How the fuck did they get in the game, even?” It’s one question that’s been burning a hole in your mind since you you saw that first strange troll.

A peculiar expression crosses his face at that - on anyone else you might call it soft, or even caring. But everything you know about Eridan tells you he isn’t capable of emotions like that, so you know you’re wrong. “They wwere in my hivve wwhen F-Fe… w-wwhen I came inta the game, so they got transported in, too,” he explains, voice low. You don’t miss the way he stutters over FF’s name. Serves him right - he doesn’t deserve to talk about her.

You push that thought aside and focus on his answer. It’s… possible. You know from redesigning the code that the game works by transporting everything within a certain radius around the client into the game when they enter the Medium, and you guess that could include any living organisms present within the specified area. It’s not something you’ve heard about happening with any of the others, but as far as you know none of them were harboring any secret trolls, either (though you feel like you should check on that assumption, now). It plausible enough, and cleverer than you would expect from a lie from ED, so you accept the explanation. It doesn’t answer your first question, however. “Why were they here in the firtht place?” You narrow your eyes when he fidgets, looking away and hesitates to answer. “Where’d they come from, ED?”

He grimaces. “They wwere stayin’ here,” he finally admits, eyes shifting rapidly about the room, “they didn’t havve a place to go, so I wwas lettin’ them stay wwith me.” He’s still not facing you, but by the way he’s shifting around he definitely feels your eyes boring into him.

It’s so vague it might even be true, but it’s also too vague to tell you _anything_. Fucking cagey fishprince. “And why would you do that?”

Eridan darts a look at you and looks away again without really seeing anything. “I had to,” he answers, voice hushed. He stares down at his hands, fingers picking relentlessly at the fabric surrounding the eggs, and says nothing more.

“Why?” you prompt him. Dragging these answers out of him is like pulling fangs from an enemy, and it’s a struggle to keep your annoyance at bay.

He frowns, but doesn’t seem to notice your tone, focused as he is on his hands. You’re just about to snap at him when he finally speaks up.

“I -” he cuts himself off, ducking his head and hiding his expression behind a swing of loose hair. “It wwas my f-fault,” he continues in an emotionless tone. “They wweren’t gonna survvivve on their owwn - I had to take care a them.”

You study him intently as you try to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. Is he trying to say - is he trying to tell you that he was taking _care_ of these trolls? Like some kind of fucking Troll Mary Poppins or something, running a multi-troll hive for lost little trolls? And he expects you to _believe_ that shit?

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, just barely, and stifle a snort. Yeah, sure, and you’re mentally stable. “Why the fuck would _you_ do that?” You don’t believe a word he’s saying by this point, but even his lies might end up telling you more about what’s going on.

He doesn’t catch your emphasis, nor does he look at you, still focused on trying to bore a hole in the water with his gaze. He mutters something, voice too low to catch, and you sigh silently.

“What wath that?”

“I had to,” he repeats, still quiet but now audible. “I killed their lusii - _I had to!_ \- and they wwere defenseless- I couldn’t leavve them to _die._ ” His hands clench in the fabric in his lap, knuckles going pale with the strain, and he falls silent again, posture tense.

You flinch, repulsed - what kind of fucking _monster_ would kill another trolls’ lusus?? It’s just not - killing other trolls is _fine_ , expected, even! But lusii are off limits - they’re _vital_ to the continued survival of trollkind -

\- and then you remember.

Back on Alternia, before it blew up, he was FF’s Orphaner.

Eridan _is_ a monster. One of the worst kinds there is. He’s a _sanctioned_ monster.

FF’s talked to you about it, before - about the struggle of keeping Gl’bgolyb fed, about how much it pained her to do it. About how Eridan volunteered to help her out and took over, relishing in the duties and carnage of the official position. About how he never failed in his duties, and about how he would never talk about what happened when he went out to get the troll attached lusii that were necessary every so often to keep her terrifying lusus quiet.

And - you know how important it was, _okay -_ you can still vividly remember what the Vast Glub felt like (terror, horror, _pain_ \- the worst noise in the universe cascading over the rest

hot and

 _cold_ and _wet and_ drydrydrydry

fire in your _brain,_ redredredred _black-_

the soundof everything _screaming_ ~~_scr e am i ng_ ~~

anunyeildingnoisethatgoesonandonandonandonandonandonandon

a n d n e v e r e n d s _e v e r_

 _sometimes you can still hear I T_ )

but the thought of Eridan’s actions still sends a cold feeling shooting through you, and an intense unease wells up in your digestion sac, disgust and anger and hate all mixed together.

You force it away, struggling to get your thoughts back on track and think about this new information rationally. Narrowing your eyes you study Eridan, as if staring at him hard enough will force the answers you want to reveal themselves.

He’s probably not lying about the killing, at least, as awful as that is - but that doesn’t mean anything _else_ he’s said has been true. Why would he concern himself with the fate of trolls not in his quadrants? Everything you know about Eridan tells you he wouldn’t even _care_ about trolls left behind by the death of their lusus, let alone _do_ something about it, even if he was the one to get them in that state. Not that that’s unusual, really - most trolls you know wouldn’t either. Standard procedure holds that any troll who loses their lusus before Conscription is culled, and no one wants to get mixed up in that quagmire. That Eridan would try to get around that - hemocasist, self-centered, top-of-the-spectrum, rule fanatic, _ED_ \- is ludicrous.

Unless he’s getting something out of it.

The sudden thought brings you up short, and you pause, mulling over the idea. Fishprince is _exactly_ the type of troll who’d do something like this if he thought he could get something out of it. But what the fuck would he get out of _this??_ There’s little to be gained here, and a lot of risk - you can’t figure out a benefit that Eridan would be interested in.

“What’th your angle, here?” you burst out, breaking the silence that descended while you were deep in thought, making Eridan jump in surprise.

“W-wwhat?” He jerks his head up to face you again, eyes glowing slightly in the dark of the block. He’s clearly confused, which only annoys you more.

“Why the fuck would _you_ take them in?” you ask, voice accusing, “What’re you getting out of it?”

His brow furrows, face scrunching in bewilderment. “Nothin’,” he tells you, his voice earnest, but you don’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” you tell him, your own voice flat. You dig your claws into your knees in an effort to keep from doing something you might come to regret. “Why are you keeping thethe trollth here, ED?”

He has the gall to looked shocked at your harsh tone, as if you haven’t cut right to the center of the matter. You don’t give him time to answer, because it’s finally becoming clear. “Are you trying to build thomekind of fucking _army?_ Ith thith another one of your terrible planth? Trying to thet up your own little fleet, thomething you could uthe to _finally_ get one over on uth landdwel-”

“W-wwhat?!” Eridan cries out, cutting you off as he jerks up in the water, sending a wave splashing over the edge. “ _No!_ W-wwhy wwould you say that!?”

His sudden movement jostles the bundle of eggs, the cover slipping off and revealing the multi-colored shells, glinting in the light cast by Eridan. Your eyes are involuntarily drawn to them, but you wrench your gaze away, refusing to be distracted.

“‘W-wwhy wwould I thay that?’” you mock his stutter and relish in the injured look that crosses his face. “Oh, I don’t know,” you continue, heavy with sarcasm, “maybe the fact that you’ve never in your _life_ helped another troll? Not even your own _moirail?_ ” He flinches, but you press on, voice hard, “or maybe becauthe you want to kill anyone who’th blood ith even a fucking _degree_ warmer than yourth? I don’t know, ED, _why wouldn’t I think that?_ ”

Eridan looks stricken by your accusation, cringing back as if he can escape from the words through physical distance. You suddenly realize you’re standing, looming over him at your full height, fists clenched and eyes buzzing - though you don’t remember getting up. Both sets of lids flicker rapidly over his eyes as he stares at you, head tilted back in surrender and arms raised to guard his head as he curls around the bundle in his lap.

(in the back of your mind something points out that he _still_ hasn’t drawn a weapon but you’re too angry to acknowledge it)

You take a step forward, advancing on the cowering troll, ready to rip him out of the water and shake the answers out of him when -

 _Think things through - don’t let your temper get the best of you!_ Terezi’s warning runs through your mind, bringing you to a halt, one foot still in the air. You close your eyes for a second and breathe harshly through your nose. You force yourself to _stop_ and take a moment to center yourself. Losing your temper isn’t going to get you anywhere, and as satisfying as it would be to punch the fishdick in his smug prick face, that’s not going to help anything either. You take a step back and force your hands to unclench, slumping back against the wall.

When you open your eyes again, Eridan is still cowering away from you, tense and shaking. It’s… unsettling to see his reactions displayed so openly, and you focus on that issue to prevent yourself from exploding again.

“Why are you down here?” It’s clear he’s too shaken to answer your previous questions - besides, there isn’t anything Eridan would be able to say to convince you that you’re wrong, but you still have other things you need answers too. So you decide to move on, hoping to distract him into revealing something actually useful. “I would’ve thought you’d be out there on the front lineth, what with the fucking war-time expertithe you’re alwayth claiming to have.”

He cringes when you speak, clearly expecting you to keep yelling at him. Your milder tone surprises him, and it takes a second for him to comprehend your words. When he does, his eyes twitch to the bundle of eggs in front of him. They’re still uncovered from when he jostled them earlier, and now he rushes to hide them again. He glances up at you as he pulls the pile closer to his body, shielding it with his arms when he notices your own gaze fixed on it. He watches you carefully, and he’s silent for so long you think he’s not going to answer again, but finally he finds his voice.

“The-the eggs,” he stammers, hunching over them as if talking about them will cause something to happen, “th-they need to be in the wwater.”

You narrow your eyes, hard pressed to figure out if it’s true or not. You don’t know the first fucking thing about caring for troll eggs - and you always thought that kind of information was restricted to jade bloods and those poor suckers destined for the caverns (though apparently that’s wrong, if Eridan isn’t talking shit) - so you have no idea if that’s true or not. But it _would_ be a fucking stupid thing to lie about. Still - “What the fuck doeth that have to do with why _you’re_ here??”

Eridan looks confused, eyebrows raised slightly and mouth quirking awkwardly. “T-to havve the eggs?” It’s more of a question than an answer, and it still does jack-shit to explain what you want to know.

You can’t tell if he’s being deliberately obtuse or if he’s just an idiot, and you smother your annoyance before it can ignite into full anger. “Where the fuck did you even get them from, anyway?” You narrow your eyes and nod to the eggs. They look brand fucking new, and even your limited knowledge tells you eggs stay in the caves till they’ve hatched and gone through the trials. “There’th no way they thhould even be out of the cavernth at thith point.”

Silence falls in the block and Eridan freezes, staring at you for a long moment, face completely blank. You return the look, resisting the urge to snap. He stays silent, eyes wandering your face like if he looks long enough he’ll be able to figure you out. You raise your eyebrows impatiently, and his face twists in confusion, a frown spreading over it. You glower in response, uncomfortable.

“What?” you demand, “why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

A look of realization spreads over his face and you scowl heavily. You don’t like how he’s looking at you - like he knows something you don’t, but has only just realized that you don’t know it. “You… you don’t knoww,” he finally breathes out, like it’s some kind of fucking _revelation_.

Give the troll a prize! He finally figured out you don’t have a single fucking _clue_ about what’s going on here, and it only took him for-fucking- _ever_ . “No _thhit_ ,” you growl, crossing your arms defensively and glaring him down, “if I knew I wouldn’t be athking thethe fucking quethtionth, would I?”

He scrunches his eyebrows together, but for the first time in this whole encounter he doesn’t seem to be intimidated by your tone. He continues to stare at you, and you bristle again, “ _What?_ ” you spit, tensing up. What _the fuck_ does he think you should know??

Eridan flinches slightly but otherwise doesn’t seem to notice your tone, eyes still searching your face. He opens and closes his mouth wordlessly before he manages to actually say something. “You really don’t knoww,” he says, voice full of wonder. You scowl furiously, and he hurries to continue, “you don’t knoww about me?”

It’s so fucking nonsensical you immediately sneer. “Know about you?” you echo snidely, “I know all I fucking need to. I _know_ you’re a fucking _idiot,_ highblooded douchenozzle with a thirtht for genocide and deluthionth of grandeur,” you hurl the words at him hatefully, done with all this useless back and forth and looking to _hurt_. “I know you’re tho dethperate for attention you’d jump buldge firtht on anything that giveth you the thlightetht fucking look. I know you’re incapable of keeping your quadrantth together when you finally manage them, and I know you ran FF away through your athhole anticth and aggrethive needineth.” You relish in the way he pales at the mention of FF, his bright spots dimming in his distress. “What the fuck elthe do I need to know?” you taunt, enjoying your spite. Then you frown. “And what the fuck doeth that have to do with the eggth??”

You catch a glimpse of his face, twisted in pain, before he ducks his head and hides behind a fringe of loose hair, his whole body pulling inward as he tries to make himself smaller. He looks pathetic, but you refuse to feel guilty - everything you said is true, and you don’t fucking _care_ if you hurt the fishdicks feelings.

(still, a little part of you cringes on the inside - you crush it ruthlessly)

After a moment Eridan recovers enough to face you again, eyes wide and blank, his whole expression carefully empty. He stares somewhere over your shoulder, not meeting your eyes. “N, no,” he stutters out, a tiny hiccup in his voice, “my, my hair, I’m…” He lifts a trembling hand and tugs on the violet lock curling down his face, voice trailing off. His eyes rove your face, catching your gaze once then flickering away. “You really don’t _knoww?_ ”

You growl, fed up with the stalling, and he hurries to continue.

“I’m a breeder,” Eridan says, voice quiet but steady, “they’re _my_ eggs.”

What.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE YOU GO! Let me know what you think! I'm looking forward to next chapter, which will hopefully be easier for me to get out! 
> 
> I am aware that Eridan is suffering from a severe case of ooc-behavioritis, in this, but as you can see he is under a littttttle bit of stress at the moment, and the fic itself has a bit of a different set up for him. There are also other reasons, which will become clear eventually! Don't worry too much, though, as he should be getting mostly back to his usual sassy self in a few chapters!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _Breeders are - Breeders aren’t real. They’re some kind of throwback/shitty romance myth. Like rainbow drinkers. But everyone knows that they’re fake. It’s not - what?_
> 
> _You continue to gape at Eridan like an idiot, your mind running in circles. Finally you manage to gather enough brain cells to spit something out. “You’re not real.”_
> 
> _Brilliant, Sollux. That’s some real fucking genius shit there. You could slap yourself for your stupidity._
> 
> EDIT 05/02/2017: minor edits, added to the description of the Vast Glub, changed Eridan's accent, italics are awful and hard :(


	6. ==> Sollux: what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux runs off, manages to get into an epic, one-sided rivalry with a series of doors, and makes some more friends. Meanwhile, some trolls have a freakout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible at keeping to a schedule. I apologize.
> 
> Also I am going to sleep now I love you all.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sollux, poor language, sleep-deprived characters failing to figure things out, Sollux, OC's, one or more lengthy descriptions of doors

**== > Sollux: what?**

_What?_

Eridan isn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze boring into the wall somewhere to your left instead. You barely notice, as your brain has ground to a halt, replaying those six words over and over, backwards and forwards in an attempt to make sense of them. It’s not doing you much good.

(you are getting real sick and tired of your brain rebelling like this at every little surprise)

Breeders are - breeders aren’t _real_.

They’re a _fantasy_ , created by lonely smut writerroists with too little imagination and too much soper slime; breeders are a shitty throwback to the dark ages; a fetisistic combination of troll and animal, like rainbow drinkers or sun chasers. But they’re _fake_ \- fakey fake imaginary bullshit, and _everyone_ knows it. This isn’t - it’s _not_ \- what?

You continue to gape at Eridan like a gogdamn idiot, unable to muster the brain power required to close your jaw as your mind runs itself in circles. Finally, you manage to bypass it entirely and spit out, “you’re not real.”

A beat.

He stares at you.

You think about what you just said.

 _Brilliant_ , Sollux. Well done, real fucking genius shit right there. You could slap yourself for your stupidity, and you would, if you could gather the motor control required to do so. You avoid looking at the fishdick as you try the sentiment again, not interested in seeing his no doubt smug look over your slip up. “Breederth - _breederth_ aren’t real. They’re - they’re a thhitty plot devithe uthed by unimaginative writerrorithtth for cheap thrillth, not thomething that actually _exithtth_.”

You manage to regain enough control of your body to snap your jaw shut on your rambling, crossing your arms and pitching forward, restless. You chance a look at the eerily silent troll, and rather than looking pleased at your discomfort as you’d expect, he looks confused. His eyes are wide as they meet yours, fins flared out, ears extended in shock above them.

“W-wwhat?” Eridan’s eyebrows furrow together and the edges of his mouth turn sharply down. “I’m real!” he protests, clearly bewildered. He bites at his lip - a flash of sharp white fang - gaze darting down to the eggs in his lap and then back to hover over your shoulder. “Wwhat are you talkin’ about?”

He looks remarkably sincere and despite yourself you waver. You can’t think of a single reason anyone would lie about something like _this_. There’s no point - it’s simply too ridiculous. But - it can’t be true. It _can’t_ be. You’d _know_. Right?

He has to be lying. “Breederth aren’t real,” you repeat, a frown spreading across your face. “What are you trying to do?” You uncross your arms, unable to keep still, swinging them down and digging your claws into the wood floor in an effort to ground yourself. Breeders aren’t _real_ \- you _know_ this. ED claiming he is one is like - it’s like if KN told you she’d turned into a fucking rainbow drinker after getting shot through the chest. _Ridiculous._

“They _are_ ,” he insists, “I’m real!” He’s leaning forward, coming partly out of the pool as he entreats you, voice earnest. “Howw can you not knoww?”

“Why the fuck _would_ I?” you shoot back, frustrated. He’s speaking nonsense, and you still have no idea what game he’s playing at.

Eridan looks even more confused; his ears flag down and back and his fins flutter in a way you think means uncertainty. “I-it’s common knowwledge,” he tells you, his tone full of conviction in spite of the nonsense he’s spouting. “They’re rare,” he persists, “but they’re definitely real! _I’m_ real!”

He’s so ardent about it you’re starting to think he might even believe it. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you blurt out, incredulous, “what the fuck are you even thaying?” You stare at him, unable to comprehend the rubbish coming out of his mouth.

His eyes are wide and filled with a wild light. “You can’t not knoww!” he explodes, fervent, “you _can’t!_ It’s - evveryone knowws! It’s in all the schoolfeeds!” He’s rambling, but now you know he’s full of shit - there’s nothing about this in any of the schoolfeeds you’ve ever seen, and you’d know if there fucking _was_. The only places you’ve ever seen talk about it are on the depraved depths of the nett and in shitty trollmance novels for girls.

“Bullthhit,” you tell him, voice flat.

“ _It’s not!_ ” he hisses, teeth bared in aggression that’s quickly smothered. “W-wwe’re a genetic anomaly, there aren’t many of us, but wwe exist!” He’s remarkably committed to this farce, leaning out of the pool as he tries to convince you. “Wwe’re an important part of the Fleet!” He wraps an arm around his midsection, a sort of half hug he doesn’t seem to be aware he’s doing.

You snort. “Yeah, and how the fuck ith that?”

Eridan glances away, sinking into himself at your derisive tone. His shoulders hunch inwards, but when he speaks his voice is steady and flat and almost proud, completely at odds with his posture. “A breeder is more efficient than a mothergrub at passing along desirable traits to the offspring,” he informs you, tone matter of fact.

“What?” You’re beginning to hate that fucking word. He’s acting weird - weirder than usual - and it’s fucking _unsettling_. He’s talking like he can distance himself from his words if he pretends they’re not about what he’s claiming to be, and it strikes a chord in you.

(on Alternia you were going to be a ship _a ship_ ~~**_aship_ ** ~~ )

“Using a breeder to incubate eggs is a more reliable wway to pass on genetics than the general slurry,” he continues and it sounds like he’s reciting a Fleet issued document. He finally manages to look up at you, gaze steady as it meets your own - but his eyes are completely empty. “It is a great honor to be selected as a breeder for a troll wwho has been chosen to pass on their genetics,” he informs you ardently and then he

fucking

 _smiles_.

And it’s _wrong_ \- it’s so fucking wrong, wrong _wrong -_

You’ve never seen ED smile before in your entire fucking life (you didn’t think he _could_ ) and it’s so fucking _wrong_. It’s too perfect, like a snapshot on a glossy page, too wide too tense too _much_ , sharp teeth hidden like some gentle fucking troll, edges strained and frozen -

\- and his eyes, locked on yours, are devoid of any kind of living emotion.

You can’t look away from the terrible rictus of his smiling face, and it feels like time freezes, suspending you in the moment.

And then, abruptly, it’s over.

The moment ends, and you’re able to jerk yourself away from the horrifying image.

Fuck it. You are _done_.

You stand up swiftly, hardly noticing when Eridan flinches as you stumble away from the wall on numb legs. Nothing matters but the overwhelming need to leave that’s overcome you. You head for the door, not even registering when you bump into a wall or splash into a deeper puddle -

You just…

You can’t be in this block for even one more fucking minute. You’re suffocating in here, drowning above water in a block full of mysteries tucked away under a hive full of hidden problems and you have to _get out_.

You slam your way through the door, not caring when it flies out and hits the opposite wall with a loud bang. Faiyet, waiting right outside, jumps out of the way and spins around to face you. You barely notice, stepping out of the block and turning at random to head blindly down the hall. You hear Eridan call out behind you, but you can’t comprehend it through the buzzing in your ears. Faiyet latches onto you from behind - you shake her off without looking and keep moving. She’s yelling at you too, but all you can hear is a dull explosion of noise.

With every step you take your speed increases, and before you know it you’re running, sprinting head first down corridors, taking turns at random as you try to _get away_. The voices behind you fade quickly into the background, and all you’re left with is the sound of your ragged breathing and endless hallways.

It’s fine - you don’t care where you end up, so long as you get _away_.

None of this makes any fucking _sense_. ED has to be lying to you. There’s just - there’s no other explanation. A breeder?? What the fuck?? That’s - it’s not even _real_. It’s made up fakey-fake bullshit wigglers use to freak each other out. Besides, Eridan’s a fucking _highblood_. Highbloods aren’t - they don’t - they’re not _mutants_ , not like that ( ~~not like~~ ~~_you_ ~~ ) Being a highblood means life is better than the shitty dregs available to pissbloods like you - they have choices, and power and - they don’t get _used_ like that.

And if he was some kind of mutant - you would know. Right? It would - mutants don’t just go unnoticed! The Empire doesn’t stand for mutants - they… they wouldn’t fucking _make use of them._  They’d just - they’d just _kill_ them.

_Right?_

You know you’re right. What he said - it’s impossible. It isn’t _true._

And all these trolls - what he said - they can’t be the fallout of feeding FF’s lusus. It’s - FF would never stand for it. She’s too _good_ , too kind, too _light._  And - she would have told you. Wouldn’t she? Yes, she would have. Which means she can’t know, can’t possibly have any idea what ED’s doing here - so Eridan _has_ to be lying.

But if he’s lying then how did all these trolls _get here?_ If they invaded his hive, why would he come up with such a ridiculous story? No, it’s more likely Eridan brought them here. Abducting trolls to keep himself company is exactly the type of behavior you would expect from the emotionally stunted bulgelicker - but why all this elaborate fantasy about it???? And these trolls - they seem to actually care about the fucking fish, for some fucking reason. Especially the ones you’ve seen - Faiyet threatened you, was ready to fucking _fight_ you if you did anything she didn’t like around ED -

ED - fucking _Eridan._  Gog - the look on his face - his _voice_ \- “a great honor” he said -

Oh gog, it makes you want to hurl.

His _face_ \- he fucking _believes_ it, what the fuck does it even _mean_ -

\- images kaleidoscope through your mind as your imagination runs wild -

_a flash of violet splashed across a wall_

_cold grey walls covered in code wires running through you_

_a nondescript troll_ ~~_you know who it is_~~ _held down and screaming_

_metal, everywhere - in you around you running through your brain_

_blood of every color and they won’t. stop. screaming_

_cold so cold it’s like you’ll never be warm again_

_what did you do to deserve this_ ~~_you hatched_~~

_they’re killing her they’re k i l l i n g her whywhwhywhy_

_an eternal nothingness floating endlessly alone in your tank_

_weeks and weeks of misery dark and lonely and nothing but_ duty

_messages flashing through your b r a i n error error errorerrorerror_

_pain everywhere and always forever and til eternity ends_

_blood coloring the water dark and thick_

_too much_ too much

 _No_ . It’s not true - it _can’t_ be true. Eridan’s a highblood - nothing like _that_ would ever happen to a _highblood,_  not like it was going to to _you_   ~~but you’re safe, now - no one can make you~~ ~~_not now_  ~~ Not in your society - they wouldn’t - they’re too important -

Right?

Right. He has to be messing with you - this is just another one of his fucking tricks, calculated to gain sympathy and pity from anyone who’ll listen, completely messed up and insane as only Eridan, crown prince of douchebaggery, is capable of.

But then what about the eggs?? You’ve only ever seen troll eggs in schoolfeeds, and even then it was only the most basic segment. How the fuck did the royal asshole get his slimy hands on some? No one is supposed to know where the brooding caverns are except the trolls who live there, and they never leave. There’s no way fishdick would be able to make it in there, let alone take off with some eggs. So it’s _possible_ \- No. He’s lying - he must have figured out a way, somehow, and stolen them from the caverns. As much as you hate to admit it, Eridan is smart (when he’s not being the biggest fucking idiot you’ve ever met) and he’s brutal and deranged enough - if anyone could have figured it out, he could.

(your subconscious prods at you, poking at you and insistently asking _why why why_ \- and you shut it down without consideration. ED’s a fucking _freak_ that’s why)

Your thoughts are spiraling out of control, spinning endlessly as your mind runs ragged and coherent thought collapses in on itself.

All you’re left with is the overwhelming need to _get out._

You run, and you don’t stop.

* * *

\-- frameworkArmor [FA] opened a memo on board GROUP LEADERS: FUCK THIS SHIT at 10:24 --

> FA: AttentiOn!!  
>  FA: EveryOne frOntncenter!
> 
> buildingFellowship [BF] responded to memo at 10:24.
> 
> BF: ಠ⌣ಠ What’s gøing øn?  
>  BF: What happened? Is Møm økay??? (๑ʘ∆ʘ๑)  
>  FA: Eri is  
>  FA: Eri willbefine   
>  BF: ರ_ರ  
>  BF: That døesn’t søund prømising Faiyet ⚆ _ ⚆  
>  FA: This isn’t abOutEri  
>  FA: Eri’s*fine*
> 
> scoundrelObtainer [SO] responded to memo at 10:25.
> 
> SO: Wait, w|-|ats g8ing 8n?  
>  SO: Is Erim8m d8ne???  
>  BF: Σ(ノ°▽°)ノ  
>  FA: Yesbut there’sa biggerissue  
>  BF: Σ(╯✧∇✧)╯  
>  SO: Actually, t|-|at seems pretty fuckin imp8rtant t8 me
> 
> rhapsodistReciter [RR] responded to memo at 10:27.
> 
> RR: The eggs aRe heRe??  
>  FA: Yes but  
>  BF: ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ FUCK YEAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!   
>  BF: ٩(♡ε♡ )۶ GØØØØØØØØ MØØØØØØØØØM!!!!  
>  BF: ✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡
> 
> intersectedDirection [ID] responded to memo at 10:31.
> 
> ID: I† †ook somewha† longer †his cycle, did i† no†?  
>  RR: Really?  
>  ID: Yes. Af†er… †ha†, we were all s†ar†ing worry abou† †he leng†h of †his cycle.  
>  FA: Guys that’snOt  
>  BF: =͟͟͞͞( •̀д•́))) I wasn’t wørried! *I* knew Møm wøuld be fine!!  
>  SO: I always f8rget y8u’ve 8nly been |-|ere f8r like a sweep Ris  
>  RR: Yes…  
>  RR: Unlike the Rest of you, I don’t have the expeRience necessaRy to judge what is oR is not the noRm foR ERidan.
> 
> torpidNumen [TN] responded to memo at 10:34.
> 
> TN: ehhhh im n[]t sure any[]ne really kn[]ws what *that* is  
>  TN: but its great the eggs are finally here  
>  FA: GuysseriOusly  
>  ID: Agreed. †hough i† is cer†ianly no† †he mos† oppor†une of †imes for †his.  
>  TN: n[]t like theres anything we can d[] ab[]ut it th[]  
>  TN: kind []f just ha√e t[] r[]ll with the punches here  
>  SO: 8|-|, c8me 8n! We g8t t|-|is!!!!  
>  SO: w|-|at |-|ave we been w8rking t8 if n8t dealing wit|-| t|-|ese kinds a situati8ns?  
>  BF: Hey, we’vve døne this twice beføre! ρ(￣ﾍ￣ ﾒ)  
>  RR: Not me.  
>  BF: (#ﾟﾛﾟ#) Møst øf us, I mean! And we’ll all learn!!  
>  ID: †hose of us who have gone †hrough †his before are older now, and more able †o help ou†.  
>  ID: Bu† †he †iming is s†ill no† ideal. We will have †o work †oge†her and give i† our absolu†e bes† †o succeed.  
>  RR: I will do my best to help out.  
>  TN: aint any a us wh[] w[]nt  
>  FA: Reallyguys cOmeOn
> 
> zaffreTends [ZT] responded to the memo at 10:38.
> 
> ZT: i @m sorry, to report th@t j@ce@n will not be, responding, despite the memo, c@lling for, @ll group le@ders, @s she is very busy,  
>  ZT: @nd, @lso, does not w@nt too,  
>  ZT: i send @pologies on her beh@lf, @s she will not, @nd will rel@y, @ny pertinent inform@tion to her,  
>  SO: w|-|at t|-|e |-|ell is t|-|at witc|-| up t8 n8w  
>  RR: Jacean shall be absent again?  
>  ZT: yes, she is very busy, i @m sorry,  
>  FA: GUYS  
>  TN: d[]nt ap[o]l[]gizzze etta it aint y[]ur fault the d[]cs antis[]cial  
>  BF: Yøu shøuldn’t let her ørder yøu arøund all the time Zettal! [○･｀Д´･○]  
>  ZT: she, doesn’t, order me @round,  
>  ID: †ha† is ca†egorically un†rue.  
>  ZT: it’s not,
> 
> heirsBulwarked [HB] responded to the memo at 10:42.
> 
> HB: Aw man lets not get into t#is argument again  
>  HB: Cmon guys  
>  SO: But s|-|e d8es t|-|is every fuckin time!  
>  BF: If we let her get away with it she’ll nevver learn! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ  
>  ID: And you hones†ly †hink any†hing we say here is going †o change her behavior?  
>  RR: It is highly unlikely it would. Especially as Zettal will most likely not show heR any of this.  
>  RR: My apologies, Zettal, I mean no offence.  
>  ZT: it’s fine, riszhi,  
>  BF: ಠ╭╮ಠ  
>  SO: >(   
>  ID: As I †hough†.  
>  HB: Better just ta let it go  
>  TN: li[]s is right   
>  TN: aint n[] p[]int arguing ab[]ut things that w[]nt change  
>  FA: YOU’REALLABUNCHOFFUCKINGIDIOTS!!!MYGOGWILLYOUFUCKINGLISTEN!!!!!!  
>  FA: THEPLAYERHASFUCKINGESCAPED!!!!HE’SLOOSEINTHEHIVEANDIHAVENOFUCKINGCLUEWHEREHEIS!!!!!!  
>  RR: Oh my  
>  SO: wait w|-|at t|-|e fuck  
>  TN: wh[]a  
>  ZT: ,,,,  
>  BF: ━Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||)━  
>  ID: Wha†.  
>  HB: ...  
>  HB: Wow  
>  SO: W|-|AT T|-|E FUCK F  
>  FA: AREYOUALL READYTO*FUCKINGLISTEN* NOW????????  
>  TN: []k iyet calm the fuck d[]wn y[]u√e l[]st y[]ure spaces again and we cant understand y[]u  
>  BF: ┬─┬ノ( º _ ºノ)  
>  ID: Faiye† wha† has happened?  
>  BF: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻  
>  FA: HefuckingRANOFF isWHAThappened, Issy!!!  
>  SO: W|-|8 are we talking ab8ut |-|ere????  
>  HB: Good question whos t#is player?  
>  ID: †he Player is Sollux Cap†or - Eridan called him in †o assis† when he realized wha† was happening.  
>  ID: †hough I do no† know wha† Faiye† is †alking abou† beyond †ha†.  
>  SO: T|-|AT FUCKER????????  
>  ID: Af†er †he a††ack was over he insis†ed on mee†ing wi†h Eridan before he would consider leaving, and we were forced †o comply in order †o avoid fur†her violence.  
>  TN: what  
>  FA: ANDTHEN WHENHE GOTWHATHEWANTED HEFUCKINGRANOFF!!!!  
>  BF: (ꐦ°᷄д°᷅) WHAT ( ꒪Д꒪)ノ  
>  HB: Well s#it  
>  RR: Oh no  
>  SO: FUCK  
>  ZT: why would, erid@n, c@ll him,  
>  ID: Eridan did no† see fi† †o share his reasons wi†h us before he lef†.  
>  ID: †o be fair, he did no† have much †ime af†er †he a††ack s†ar†ed.  
>  RR: And now he’s missing?  
>  FA: YES!!!! And IcOuldn’tgO afterhimbecause IhavetOstaywithEri  
>  FA: AndnOw he’swhOknOws where!  
>  ID: Why would be run off?  
>  FA: IdOn’tknOw!!! EriwOuldn’t letmein, andnOw hewOn’ttellmeanything!!!  
>  BF: (╬☉д⊙)⊰⊹ฺ  
>  TN: why d[]es he always d[] this???!  
>  TN: he cant pr[]tect us f[]re√er  
>  ZT: i don’t think, th@t’ll stop him, from trying,  
>  HB: Well t#is is just fuckin great  
>  ID: Wha† are we going †o do??   
>  RR: Well we have to locate him, of couRse.  
>  FA: IknOw! That’swhatI’vebeen tryingtOtellyOu!  
>  SO: |-|8w t|-|e fuck are we supp8sed t8 d8 t|-|at??   
>  SO: |-|e c8uld be anyw|-|ere!!  
>  FA: NO, but hecanthave gOnefar. He’s nOtkeyed in.  
>  RR: That means he must still be on the same level. He wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else.  
>  ID: †ha† is good news. No one else is on †ha† level a† †he momen†, besides Eridan and Faiye†, so he should be easy †o con†ain.  
>  TN: there isnt anything that imp[]rtant []n that le√el either  
>  TN: e√ery[]ne wh[]s bl[]ck is d[]wn there w[]nt be heading there f[]r a while  
>  BF: We’ll figure it øut! (✿´‿`)  
>  HB: A#  
>  HB: Funny story about t#at  
>  RR: … what have you done now.  
>  HB: Weeeeeeeellllllll...

* * *

Eventually, sense comes back to you.

Your mind goes blank, exhausted from your erratic thoughts. You become aware of your surroundings again, slowly to begin with and then in a rush all at once. You have no idea how long you’ve been running for - you lost sense of time corridors ago - but you’re exhausted. Your brain is starting to shut down as it gives up on being able to make sense of the events of the night and tries to curl in on itself instead.

You have no idea what to think or what to believe, nothing makes any sense - _everything_ is is messed up, and you don’t fucking _care_ anymore.

There’s an epic migraine tickling at the edges of your awareness, hanging out of reach but taunting you with flashes of what’s to come, ready to overwhelm you at a moment’s notice.

You can’t - you can’t deal with this anymore, can’t _be here_ anymore.

It strikes you then, what you’re going to do. You’re going to get the hell out of here and back to your hive, you’re going to tell FF and KK and everyone about the army of wrigglers fishdick’s hiding in his hive, and you are going to crawl into your recuperacoon and sleep for a fucking _week._

And you are never going to think about any of this shit _again._

(your sense of the doomed stirs, scoffing at your nativity. you smother it under your ire - you don’t want to deal with this mess anymore and you don’t fucking _care_ if it gets you all killed)

It’s past time for you to leave this fucking mess and go back to your own hive, where you can drink yourself into a sugar coma with Faygo and pretend this was all a fucking daymare brought on by too much coding and not enough sleep.

You force yourself out of the deep well of your thoughts, looking around to find you’ve come to a stop in the middle of a corridor.

A corridor that looks exactly like every _other_ corridor you’ve seen in this entire ship.

Fuck.

Looks like in your mad dash to get away you’ve also managed to get yourself fucking lost.

_Fantastic._

The walls look familiar - but you have no idea if you’ve actually been here before or if it’s because all the corridors. look. the fucking. same!

It has the same blank walls and the same pale doors lining both sides of the hall, all closed. The lighting grubs look the same as well, as do the fixtures and small decorative seating arrangements in the crooks of the corridors. The only difference here is that the floor is damp. In some places it’s covered by almost an inch of water, which means you’re probably still on the lowest level. Other than that slight difference it looks exactly like all the other fucking hallways you’ve been in tonight.

Fuck your life.

Your first instinct is to start breaking down walls, but common sense wins out - it’s more than likely this level of the ship is actually underwater, based on the lack of windows and the amount of wetness, and bursting out of it into the middle of the ocean would be fucking stupid for a number of reasons, foremost of which is the fact you can’t fucking _swim._

Which means you need to go up, get above water level, and _then_ you can start fucking up the walls on your way out. A hot rush of anger pulses through you at the delay, but you push it aside - better to focus on making it out of here for now - you can take your anger out on the place when it won’t lead to your soggy death.

You eye the doors lining the hallway. All of them look perfectly similar to you, but on your way down to see the fish prince from your crash landing in the upper levels, the stairs and ladders were all situated behind doors just like these.

Approaching the nearest door, you eye it warily. You wouldn’t put it past the fishdick or his army of minion to have set traps - this whole place feels like it’s been designed to be hostile to outsiders, and you’re fucking tired of it. You look over the door, trying to spot anything out of place. It’s taller than you by a good foot and it’s almost three times as wide. There’s another foot of space above it and about ten feet of space between the doors on either side. The door itself is crafted from a soft white wood, and when you run a claw across a panel it gives easily, leaving a scratch in the formerly flawless surface. The door jam is made of an even darker wood than the walls, almost pure black, and meets seamlessly with the door itself, with no cracks or gaps. The handle is made of some kind of golden metal, gleaming and tarnish free despite the damp heavy in the air. Even after a thorough inspection it looks harmless.

Cautious, but unable to think of any other options, you grab the handle, tense and ready to jump back at the first sign of danger.

Slowly, oh so carefully, you turn the handle.

The handle doesn’t turn.

Your eye twitches, and you turn harder, trying to force it.

Which is useless, because the door is fucking _locked._

You swear violently and kick the door as hard as you can - then swear again, louder, and hop backwards, clutching your aching foot as you try to sooth the sudden sharp pain. You fall back against the opposite wall and glare at the door. Gingerly, you run your hands along your foot, trying to figure out if anything’s broken.

“Fucking _doors,_ " you growl, and try your best to light it on fire through the sheer force of your glare, “fucking firewood ith all you’re fucking good for, don’t even _pretend._ ”

Your attempted pyro-telekinesis doesn’t work, and you scowl harder when you see the only sign of your attack is a small dent and a slight discoloring marring the otherwise pristine wood. You’d swear the door is mocking you, but you’re not that crazy yet.

A few moments later the pain fades. You’re pretty sure your stupidity hasn’t caused any lasting damage, and you leverage yourself up again. Still glaring at the evil fucking piece of kindling you limp your way down the hall.

You inspect the next door, staring hard at the sheet of unmarked white wood. It looks exactly the same as the previous door, and you try the handle slightly less cautiously.

It’s locked again, and you swear furiously, though this time you manage to resist the urge to kick the inanimate piece of furniture.

Moving on, you give the next door a cursory inspection before grabbing the handle, fully expecting it to be locked as well. It is, and you swallow your anger and head to the following door.

It continues like that down the entire hall, and with every locked door you come across you spend less time studying the subsequent one. By the time you turn a corner and head into the next hall, you’re barely even looking at the doors before you try them, and thus are completely shocked when the doorknob on your twelfth attempt actually turns and the door swings open.

“Thhit!” You jump backwards, psionics prickling to life automatically and stare into the unveiled block, twitching.

It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust, but once they do you see it’s a small space lined with shelves full of dusty boxes and odd shapes. You hold your breath, but the nothing that is happening continues to not happen for the next several moments so you cautiously approach the entryway.

When you enter the block lights flicker to life and you tense up again before you spot the box beside the door and realise it’s sensor activated. Fucking highbloods and their high tech gadgets - what’s the fucks wrong with a simple fucking on button?? You grumble disdainfully and venture into the block.

Scrutinizing the items on the shelves, you find the boxes to be full of more oddly shaped objects. What you recognize seems to be rather generic replacement parts for systems essential to hive function - you even spot a few you keep around your own hive for when things break and you can’t be arsed to order up a carpenter drone to fix it. The ones you can’t identify seem likely to serve the same purpose, probably for systems you don’t have.

The excitement of finding an unlocked door fades upon realizing you’ve stumbled on Eridan’s storage block. Fucking great, that’s gonna be _real_ fucking useful.

You scowl and exit the block, slamming the door shut behind you and feeling cheated when it catches itself and shuts gently instead.

You don’t bother checking the next door before trying the handle, and are not surprised when it refuses to open. The next several doors are the same and you swallow your frustration and keep moving forward. You’re going to get out of this place, and its fucking labyrinthine nature and endless amounts of locked doors isn’t going to stop you.

The next door to actually open leads to the first bits of actual color you’ve seen in the entire decor. Your first impression is ‘green’ - the walls are a deep striking shade of it that remind you of the scales on a slitherbeast. There’s a recuperacoon in one corner of the block, and another door opposite hangs half open, revealing an ablution trap. Plastered all about the block are papers covered in scribbles too small to make out. The block is clearly lived in, with various articles of clothing littering the floor and a trail of sopor slime leading from the ‘coon to the ablutionblock. You quickly shut the door without entering, trying unsuccessfully to brush off the uncomfortable feeling you’ve intruded somewhere private.

The rest of the doors in that corridor are all locked, and you turn onto another hall at the junction. Your second try yields an unlocked door, which opens onto another respiteblock. You catch a glimpse of low ceilings, deep blue walls, and the weirdest wooden objects you’ve ever seen before you hurriedly close the door and move on.

You highly doubt you’ll find a way up through anyone’s ‘block, and you have no desire to become anymore involved in the strange happenings of this place than you already are. The less you see, the less you have to try and forget about later.

The next few corridors are short and filled with locked doors, and you can feel your ire rising with every unsuccessful attempt. You eye the damp walls for a few seconds at the next turn, but you’re not actually at the point where you’re ready to risk drowning to escape.

_Yet._

A few doors later and you find another one unlocked. The lights take a second to flash on, and you feel a spark of hope as you wait for your eyes to adjust, but it’s quickly dashed when the interior of the block comes into focus.

Immediately you can tell you won’t find anything here that’s going to help you get back to your hive, but you when you go to move on you find yourself hesitating. The block looks different in a way you can’t place, and you find yourself moving inside before you can stop yourself.

It’s the biggest block you’ve seen on this ship so far, and that’s saying something - the block’s you’ve already seen could fit your entire respiteblock and then some, and this one is somehow even _bigger._  You feel another flash of resentment for the undeserved privileges afforded to highbloods, but you push it aside in favor of focusing.

The block is remarkably dry for being below sea level, and the floor is covered in a plush material that proves to be the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your fucking _life_ when you kneel down to touch it. Scattered about the block are various piles, all of them composed of different objects in an eclectic display makes your thinkpan hurt just trying to figure out what kind of spastic troll would collect so much stuff.

It’s the walls of the block that really grab your attention, however. They’re a dark gray, almost black and are absolutely covered in scribbles - words and drawings of every type and shape in every color you can imagine, filling all four walls from floor to ceiling. There’s more colors in this block then you’ve ever seen in one place before, from the deepest reds to the brightest pinks, and you can’t resist going in for a closer look.

Upon inspection, most of what covers the walls is nonsense - loops and lines that are clearly random, but here and there you see shapes you think might be more. A few of the symbols look purposeful enough they might be troll signs and some of the more forceful marks look like they might be names - BAirAi, m|arab, YDeNel.

It’s the pictures that really catch your eye.

Calling most of them pictures is being generous. Almost all of them are only barely recognizable as something other than random scribbles. Some of them you can’t tell the difference. There’s a variety of styles and colors, a variety of subjects and scenes, and most prominent among them are a series of dark red scribbles you see everywhere you look. The marks are made from all kinds of material - mostly chalk, but there’s also traces of markers, paints and crayons. Most of it seems like nonsense, or poor attempts at depicting something from real life - you see scribbled faces, collections of shapes that might be animals, random letters and patterns that trail off halfway through - the kinds of things you’re sure you drew all over your own walls when you were little.

But there are other things, too.

Throughout all the drawings is the same figure, depicted over and over again, mixed in between all the other scribbles. It’s recreated in a variety of colors and styles, drawn over and over again by different hands. The violet scribble on the head, set between two jagged streaks of yellow, and the purple panel hanging off the neck tells you the figure is meant to be Eridan.

He’s all over the walls - on one he’s wrapped around a small shape you think might be a wriggler as a larger shape composed of dark slashes looms over them. Farther down he’s depicted between a small green blob and a larger blue stick figure. Another wall, and he’s standing next to a small yellow blob, the two connected by a line as they face away from a generic troll-like shape.

Other drawings are harder to interpret - a series of overly large figures approach what you think is supposed to be the hive, tiny faces in square boxes lining the sides. A large black rectangle appears over and over again, surrounded by small variously colored blobs. An uneasy feeling fills you when you look at those images, raising the spines on your back and generating an itch under your hide.

There’s more, but you can’t figure out what they’re meant to represent - they’re just more depictions of figures together and apart, more shapes and images you can’t interpret. You spend a long time staring at the lines on the walls, captivated by the mess of ideas and thoughts you can see mixed together and sharing space in a way you hadn’t thought it possible for trolls to achieve.

You only manage to pull yourself away after you remember you don’t care about what’s happening in this place, and your goal is getting out. Tearing your eyes away from the images is surprisingly difficult, but you manage.

Pushing the odd block out of your mind you focus on renewing your quest for an exit. The rest of the doors in that corridor and the next are locked tight, and the more you try the more your temper reignites. You start to move faster, eager to find a way out before you come across anything else that will distract you.

(anything that might make you forget that you want to leave)

Two more corridors go by before you find an unlocked door, and you only glance inside long enough to see there aren’t any stairs before moving on.

Blocks pass by in a flash as you speed up. Most of the doors are locked and the ones that aren’t you look in only briefly, but you still manage to catch glimpses that stick with you. A greenish block covered in piles of pillows; a small space that looks like half a meal block; an orange and yellow block with sheets draped over everything. An entire hallway of locked doors. A few blocks probably used for more storage. Two ablutionblocks. Yellow walls with green swirls filled with shelves packed tight with boxes. More locked doors. Another storage block.

And not a sinGLE FUCKING SIGN OF ANY WAY OFF THIS. GOG. _DAMN._ **_LEVEL!!!_**

You continue your crusade against doors, but the farther you go with no success the more ready you are to take your chances with the water outside and start breaking through the fucking walls.

And then, just as you’re about to try yet another _fucking_ door, a noise cuts through the cloud of your anger and you freeze, listening intently.

There’s a long moment of nothing. You start to think your imagination is playing tricks on you ~~again~~. Then it repeats, and you realize what you’re hearing is voices.

For a second your mind goes completely static, and then it jumps into overdrive.

Who is it? Why are they down here? Are they looking for you? Did ED send them? Could it be a coincidence? Is it possible the enemy - no, neither the imps nor the angels talk, and you’d be hearing a lot more sounds of destruction if it was them. So it’s trolls, probably, but friend or foe? Should you confront them?? Should you stay where you are and wait? Should you run? Should you hide??

Your thoughts scramble as you try to figure out all your option, but before you really know what you’re doing your body’s making the decision for you, jumping into a convenient niche in the hallway. It puts you out of sight of the anyone coming through from the direction of the voices while giving you an adequate view of the opening. Well fuck, looks like you’re going with the waiting option, then. You plaster yourself to the wall, gathering your psionics under your hide and stand as motionless as possible as you wait.

It’s a tense minute before the acoustics of the corridors start funneling sound to you, turning the indistinguishable mutterings into distinct words. You slow your breathing and try to stay perfectly silent as you listen.

“It’s _there!_ ” a high pitched and squeaky voice announces petulantly from out of sight, followed by a loud thump.

“You said that afore!” a second voice retorts almost immediately, just as high pitched but much angrier.

“It’s okay, Lear,” a third, more cheerful voice pipes up, “this’s exciting!”

There’s a bout of incoherent grumbling, too low for you to make out, and then the first interjects, “it _is!!_ ”

“We’re going the right way,” yet another voice cuts in, quelling the others.

There’s silence for a second, and then the second and third voices start bickering again, too quick for you to make out, talking over each other and chittering as they get progressively louder. All of the voices sound significantly younger than any of the trolls you’re used to dealing with, and you find yourself at a loss for what to do.

A loud outburst of squeaking and warbling brings your attention back to the group. Several shooshing and papping sounds follow, and the screeching subsides slowly.

“Why’d ya haveta bring Umi, Nys?” the angry voice accuses, “he gonna get us caught!”

“They gonna notice him missin’ fore they notice us,” the cheerful voice agrees, sounding not a bit put out despite the words.

“It’s important,” the fourth voice responds, still calm, “it makes for a good color set.”

“Umi is im-por-an?” the first voice asks, stuttering uncertainly over the long word, but then there’s more squeaking and fussing and the question is forgotten.

You can tell the group is getting nearer, but you still have no idea what to do. The last thing you want is interact with any more trolls involved in this fucked up mess, but you aren’t sure you’d be able to leave this corridor without being spotted at this point. There’s also the fact you have no fucking clue how to leave this place, and if you talk to them these trolls might be able to help with that.

“I feel it!” the first voice cries out suddenly, loud and excited, “it reeeeeal close!”

The other voices quiet for a second and then pick up with a rush of noise.

“Where??” asks the second voice, anger apparently forgotten in place of excitement, “where where where??”

“Let’s go!” shouts the third voice, and you wince at the volume. They’re _very_ close, now, and you’re starting to get the sneaking suspicion that what they’re looking for might be _you_.

You’re debating making a run for it - they sound young, you know you could take them - when the group turns the corner and comes into sight. You hold yourself perfectly still and take the opportunity to observe them before they spot you.

There are four - _five_ \- trolls, clad in a motley of colors and styles. They’re a mismatched crew, with various heights and ages, but you doubt any of them would come above your waist, and all of them are younger than any troll you’ve dealt with in sweeps.

The tallest one, who also looks to be the oldest, has great curving horns, one pointing forward and the other back. She can’t be more than three sweeps old (maybe? you’re not the best at judging ages…). She’s wearing a bright yellow-green almost the same shade as Faiyet’s color, and has a set of tinted glasses the same hue covering her eyes.

In her arms is the youngest troll you’ve ever seen in real life - a tiny little grub with an electric blue thorax that stands out against the older troll’s green coat. You stare, fascinated, as the little grub fusses and squirms, snapping softly at the older troll when she settles a hand on it’s back. The tiny thing has little nubs for horns, smaller even than KK’s stunted monstrosities, and shaggy hair swept back to reveal huge multifaceted black eyes.

An angry looking younger jade-clad troll is sneering down at the grub, arms crossed over his chest (you wonder if he really is a jade - aren’t they usually female? and based on what you know of KN, you thought they were usually a lot… calmer). He has thick horns that sweep dramatically back over his head, and his thin green scarf reminds you of fishdick’s and automatically makes you sneer.

Next to him, laughing, arms hooked casually behind his own horns (one curved in a perfect half circle and the other shaped like a long needle), stands a troll around the same age. He’s wearing several shades of red, and you can tell he’s a rust-blood by the flat teeth flashing in his wide grin.

You look at the last troll in the set and it feels like you’ve been punched in the fucking gut.

By _Equius._

Because - that - it’s - those are _Eridan’s_ horns.

His _horns._

On another troll.

They’re exact replicas of the seadwellers’ own, little versions of the lightning bolt squiggles sweeping backwards from the forehead; jagged little points perfectly placed for ramming attacks.

On another _troll._

_What?_

He’s the spitting image of Eridan if he was still 2 sweeps old, from his horns to his glasses to the symbol on his shirt.

And that - that’s not _possible_. Signs are passed down from ancestor to descendant -

\- it’s a cullable offense to wear a sign that doesn’t belong to you -

This troll can’t have ED’s sign, he _can’t_ -

\- not unless he’s actually Eridan’s descendant.

… could Eridan have been telling the truth?

The thought strikes you hard, halting you on the precipice of a full blown panic. You grab hold, focusing on it with an intensity that blocks out the rest of the world. You push yourself further back into the crevice in the wall and _think_ . Eridan’s story is ridiculous, impossible and outlandish - but this little troll is the spitting image of vids Feferi’s shown you of Eridan at two sweeps, and you’d think he’d somehow been deaged if not for the striking lack of fins and that stupid violet streak ED’s always worn in his hair. The tiny Eridan clone even fucking _stands_ like him, arms crossed under a cape (blue instead of purple) and a pout pressed into his fa-

“Aha!!” a high-pitched, whiny voice cries from right next to you, and you jolt in shock and barely manage to keep from lashing out with your psionics as you whip around. “Find you!!”

Eridan’s tiny duplicate stands in front of you, head thrown back and one hand on a hip as he jabs a finger energetically in your face. “See! I tell you!! I find sparks!” he calls to the other trolls, clearly smug and beaming at his success.

You barely hear him. He’s - he’s a mini fucking _Eridan._  You can’t get over that. He’s got his horns and his features and his _sign_ \- it shouldn’t be fucking _possible_ . Even if he’s somehow from the same mix of slurry that created Eridan (ew, _gross_ , why are you even thinking about this??) there’s _no way_ he would be so similar - even ancestors and descendants are more visibly different -

When you force yourself out of your thoughts and back to the here and now you find you’ve been surrounded. The rest of the little trolls have crowded around you, jostling each other as they try to get the best view, as if you’re some kind of fucking juggalo-circus side-show. They’ve left a few feet of distance between you and them as they stare at you in unnerving unison.

You look back at the sea of curious faces and what follows is the most awkward silence you have ever been a part of (it even beats the one that followed that time you and KK tried kissing and subsequently ended up retching wildly but you both agreed to _never talk or think about that never ever_ **_ever_** ).

Silence stretches, and when you frantically search your brain for what to do next you find it fucking _useless_ , as it has apparently decided to dedicate itself to endless screaming instead of helping you figuring things out like it’s fucking _supposed to._  You growl at it mentally but it doesn’t even notice.

(… you think you might need sleep)

To your everlasting relief one of the wrigglers finally speaks up, breaking the terrifying silence.

“What is it?” asks the little rust-blood, head cocked to the side as he studies you intently, an enraptured grin stretching his features. You feel like he’s trying to see into your insides and shift uncomfortably under his stare.

“It’s a troll, stupid!” the jade spits back immediately. You place him as the primarily angry voice you heard before and do your best not to laugh at his hilariously disgruntled expression. He turns his heated glare to the mini-Eridan and crosses his arms. “This is _it??_ ” He gestures at you and sounds intensely disappointed, and you are instinctively offended.

Grub-form Eridan puffs up, affronted, and opens his mouth, but it’s the green troll who answers. “Yes,” she states bluntly, stroking a hand over the back of the blue grub in her arms which shudders and curls up, eyes closing. The other trolls deflate at her simple answer and return to staring at you in silence.

 _Fuck._  Your brain is still being a fucking useless lump of slime, you have no idea what to fucking _say_ , why does this always happen to _you_ -

“He’s _old_ ,” the angry jade mutters, eyes narrowed as he looks you up and down.

“He’s like, Erimom’s age!” the rust whispers back loudly.

“That’s still _old_ ,” the green derides.

You’re pretty sure they think they’re being quiet enough you can’t hear them, but in reality they’re loud enough you could probably hear them a hall over. Your eye twitches as they proceed to argue about your age, your looks, your clothes, and how disappointing you are compared to their expectations.

(how the fuck do they even have expectations about you?)

The troll-that-could-be-ED is looking at you rapturously. Seeing that expression on a face so strikingly similar to the perpetually frowning seadweller you’re used to is downright freakish and you shift your gaze away, uncomfortable. Your annoyance is starting to make a return and you welcome it gladly - the hot rush helps to jolt your brain back into function.

(it pokes at you, reminding you about your commitment to getting the hell out of here and forgetting everything about this freaky place. you tell it to shut the fuck up and stop reminding you about your stupid ideas - it’s too late for that, you’re curious again. it gives the equivalent of a mental shrug that conveys the feeling of ‘just checking’ and you tell it to fuck off and stop being so fucking smug)

The curvy horned green reaches out as if to touch you and you jerk away.

“Hey!” you snap, and they all jump back like they’re shocked you can talk. You scowl. “What the _fu-_ ” you stifle yourself halfway through, trying to force down your temper. Scaring them off by yelling isn’t going to help you at all, no matter what it is you’re actually trying to do (you have no idea what that is). “What are you doing?”

They look between each other for a moment, then back to you, riveted expressions on their little faces. Instead of answering, they take your speaking as an opportunity to start shooting out questions of their own.

“Who brang you here?” is the jade’s question. He stares at you suspiciously.

“No one -” you start to respond, but are immediately interrupted by another question.

“Are ya like us or the watchers?” asks the rust-blood. His eyes go wide and he whispers, “are you like Erimom??”

“Wha-” you can’t even finish the word before the next one chimes in.

“I like you sparks!” chirps tiny not-Eridan, and you can only stare at him in confusion before you’re distracted by the green girl.

“You’ll stay, right?” she asks, face pinched and voice pleading. The grub in her arms chatters in agreement, eyes open again and pincers waving at you.

Before you can even open your mouth there’s another question, and then another, coming rapid fire as all the trolls pipe up, speaking over and around each other and jumping from one line of inquiry to another faster than you can follow. They barely leave you time to even register what they’re saying and no time at all to answer.

“Why’re you hidin’? Did ya do somethin’ _bad?_ ” the red wriggler asks, looking thrilled at the prospect. “Is Helilusus after you too??”

Eridan’s mini-me elbows in closer, demanding, “I wwanna see _sparks_!”

“Stupid! He’s too big ta haveta hide from Helilusus!” the angry jade snorts, turning on the rust.

“Helilusus is in charge a everyone!” the rust fires back.

“Please stay!” the girl begs, ignoring the others and speaking directly to you.

“Helilusus is only in charge a us, idiot!”

“Sparks sparks sparks!”

“No, he’s in charge a everyone!”

“You’re stupid!”

“This isn’t right!”

They’ve almost completely stopped paying attention to you by this point, more focused on arguing with each other, and the cacophony of noise starts up a harsh pounding in your head. You thought you were used to dealing with loud and nonsensical trolls (KK, anyone?) but this is so far outside your code you’re left reeling.

“No! You’re stupid!”

“No, you are!”

“You!”

“No, you!”

“Hey hey hey!” you cut in quickly when it looks like the two boys are about to come to blows while the others look on, distracted by the entertainment. You wave your hands in the air in a way you _think_ is supposed to be placating and hope for the best. Immediately they fall silent again, argument forgotten as they stare at you as if you’ve appeared from thin air.

Faced with their full attention your thoughts clear the fuck out again and leave you floundering. “Uhhh…” Fuck. You try again. “Tho, uh…” why is this so fucking hard, you swear this should not be so fucking hard, “I’m Thollucth.” Fucking lame, but at least it’s a _start._

“I’m Airyss!” the red one replies immediately, eager and cheerful. “That’s Learin-” he points to the angry jade his age he was arguing with before. “He’s angry cuz he got us lost again!”

“Did not!” the newly introduced Learin snaps back, vicious.

“Did too!” Airyss sing-songs.

They again dissolve into a pointless back and forth argument. Before you can figure out whether or not to step the impossible Eridan clone grabs your attention.

“I Cybele!” he informs you, staring up at you with huge gray eyes, “I followw your sparks!” he brags, and that’s great and all but you have no idea what the fuck it means.

The green girl speaks up next and the question dies on your lips. “Nyalla,” she says bluntly, and then shoves the grub in her arms in your direction. “This is Umidan.” The little blue blob whines at the sudden movement and curls into a ball, covering its head with its tail. She draws it back to her chest and stares at you unblinkingly. “You’re late!”

Well that’s just fucking confusing.

“Uh. Hi?” you offer awkwardly back. You try to force your face into a smile, but judging by the way Cybele backs up a step you probably miss it by a wide mile. You drop your face back into your regular neutral expression and he relaxes again. “What do you mean?” You direct your question at Nyalla and the mini-Eridan and try to ignore the bickering duo.

Cybele grins widely, and for a second you’re struck dumb - is this what Eridan would look like if he ever smiled? It’s - ~~surprisingly adorable~~ weird and disconcerting. “I havve sparks!” he tells you excitedly, and gog, he even speaks like the fish, “I feel _your_ sparks! I find you!”

That… doesn’t clear up anything.

“You almost missed it,” Nyalla informs you earnestly, “you’re lucky we found you!” She swipes in the direction of the arguing trolls without looking and manages to whap Learin on the back of the head. He flinches and grabs at his skull, forgoing his spat with Airyss in favor of glaring at the girl, who ignores him. Airyss falls silent as well and the both of them turn to look at you.

You frown. “Why were you looking for me?” you ask. Did someone tell them to? But why would anyone send _wrigglers_ after you? And they didn’t, how the fuck did they find you?

The lot of them look at you like you’ve just asked the stupidest question they’ve ever heard, and you run it back in your mind, trying to figure out if you messed up - but no, you didn’t even fucking _lisp_ . These wrigglers are so fucking _weird_ \- you were _never_ like this as a wriggler and you wonder what the hell is wrong with them.

“Cuz you were lost,” Learin tells you, and the ‘ _duh_ ’ is unspoken but clearly heard. The others nod in agreement.

Okay. Clearly this line of questioning isn’t going anywhere. You rack your brain for another - they seem entirely willing to answer you, so long as they don’t think the answer’s obvious, so you might have better luck getting some information out of them than you have with the older trolls, or Eridan. “How did you get here?” Maybe something they say can help you figure out whether ED’s a fucking liar, like you expect, or not.

They perk up at that, seemingly eager to tell their story. “Qezzy dis-tract-ed Helilusus so we escaped!” Airyss tells you excitedly as the others nod along, looking smug at their accomplishment, “Cy said he felt sumthin down here so we went on an adventure! But Lear got us lost!” Learin growls at him but is summarily ignored. “And then we find you!” He smiles ecstatically, and you’re beginning to wonder if he ever stops.

Learin squawks, “did _not!_ ” but he sticks to grumbling under his breathe when the others don’t seem to be interested in arguing with him.

The rest of them beam at you, and you force another attempt at a grin on your face, dropping it when it seems no more successful than your last try. “That’th, uh, good. Real, uh, clever, there,” you tell them, and they light up like grub lights on kindling. There’s only one problem with their response - it does nothing to answer your actual question of how they ended up in Eridan’s hive. Maybe you’re not being clear enough. “But how’d you get _here_ , to fith-Eridan’th, hive?” They look confused, and you hesitate, trying to word your next attempt right. “Like, I flew here becauthe fi-Eridan, athked me to,” you try to explain, pointing at yourself in and then the walls of the hive in an idiotic effort to help convey your meaning. “What about you?” you finish, rather helplessly, “did Eridan make you come here?”

There’s silence for a moment as they try to figure out what you’re asking. It’s longer than you’ve come to expect from them, and you’re about ready to give it up as a lost cause when Nyalla perks up.

“Ah!” she cries, understanding smoothing out the lines in her face. “Erimom brought me here after he killed Batmom to feed the big greedy lusus,” she informs you, oddly cheerful for someone talking about the death of her lusus - your Biclops is a fucking shitty lusus, and it _still_ hurts to think about the stretch of time where he was _dead_ (by your hand) and you even have him back as a sprite, now. You have no idea how she can be so fucking _cheerful_ about it, and it’s all you can do not to flinch at her callous language. “It’s okay!” she hurries to assure you, which means you’ve probably failed at hiding your discomfort, “it was so things’ll be better!”

Before you can process that Airyss is butting in. “Fore here Erimom says I was with Pigeondad but I don’t ‘member it real well,” he tells you earnestly, “I just been here forever.”

Learin shoves him aside to tell his own story. “I hadda den with Tigermom afore the Spider killed her, an’ then Erimom brang me here.” Not to be outdone by the others, he points at the little blue grub and adds, “an’ Erimom saved Umi from gettin’ eated by snarlbeasts and brang him to hive!”

You’re about 99.999999% positive that when they say ‘Erimom’ they’re talking about Eridan, and they’ve said it enough times by now you know they aren’t just mispronouncing it. But you have no fucking clue _why_ \- ‘mom’ is a suffix used to refer to one’s lusus, and hearing them attach it to Eridan’s name is making you twitch.

(was he telling the truth? From what they’re saying it seems like he _did_ bring them here after using their lusii to feed Gl’bgolyb, but - _why?_ These trolls don’t seem even close to the makings of an army, not like the other ones you’d met, and they’re certainly old enough to start training)

You look at the troll with Eridan’s horns, unconsciously holding your breath as you wait for his answer. Everything they’re telling you could be lies or mistruths, but whatever he says might also disprove what Eridan was telling you -

“I come from Erimom!” he tells you, sounding smug as he looks over the other trolls who grumble jealously or roll their eyes in return, “he havve my egg!”

Okay.

That’s fine.

He just means Eridan found him as an egg or something, or stolen him from the brooding caverns, this doesn’t mean _anything-_

(you know that’s not it)

You open your mouth but nothing comes out and you close it again, swallowing heavily. You shift, clenching and opening your hands as you try again -

“There ya are, ya little squirts,” a rough voice calls out from off to the side, and all of you startle violently at the sudden intrusion. “I figured ya’d be down here,” the new troll drawls, strolling down the corridor toward your little cluster. “C’mon, grublets, time ta go. Iso found out y’all went missin’ so we all better be gettin’ back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. uh. hahahahaha ha
> 
> ...yeah.
> 
> This is the chapter where things got away from me a bit. Originally, they were just supposed to talk and then go to bed, but Sollux decided to be a fucking pill and run away, the bitch.
> 
> Also, I think I may have made doors a _thing_ now, for this fic. 
> 
> Don't worry about the OC's - they're here for atmosphere, and you don't need to bother remembering their back stories - if they show up again I'll remind you, but they aren't too important (also writing kids is so hard omg why did I do this to myself????)
> 
> I kind of lost some steam with the final edit, so please let me know if you see any problems or errors.
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _The entire time you’re following the group through the hive you’re in a daze. When the lot of you set off, Nyalla grabbed onto your hand with the one not holding the grub and refused to let go. Your hand tingles where it comes into contact with hers, and you’re achingly careful not to hold back with any pressure. You don’t want to hurt these tiny trolls if you don’t have to, and you have no idea what they can take. They look so small and fragile, and something in your bloodpusher tightens at the thought of them getting hurt. You don’t understand the sensation, though, so you try not to think about it._
> 
> EDIT 05/03/2017: added an entire Trollian log between the scene breaks, why do I do this to myself omg.  
> EDIT 05/04/2017: edited that entire Trollian log, since I somehow managed to mess up my own characters.


	7. ==> Sollux: who the fuck??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux learns a little bit about how to deal with children but mostly just fails at social interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late! I promise I was working on it the whole, but RL interfered and I didn't have that much time to work on it ;(
> 
> Next chapter might be a little late too, but I'll try to get it up by next Friday!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: uhhhh Sollux?, OCs, swearing, pesterlogs, Doors

**== > Sollux: who the fuck??**

You whirl around to face the speaker and end up tripping over your own feet and falling to the floor, landing hard on your ass with a sharp, “Fuck!” of distress. Pain lances up your vertebrate stem and turns your vision white for a moment and when it clears there’s a tanned gray hand shoved in your face.

“Sorry ‘bout that man, didn’t mean ta go and scare ya or nothin’,” apologizes the same voice, though you note it sounds amused. You blink away the white spots still clouding your vision and follow the outstretched arm to the troll it’s attached to.

It’s yet another fucking new troll, and this one doesn’t even try to hide that he’s laughing at you. Behind you the wrigglers are doing the same, though they are entirely less subtle about it. You scowl to cover your embarrassment and scrutinize the new troll, ignoring the hand.

He’s clearly older than the ones you’ve been dealing with for the last few minutes, probably around the same age as the first group you crash landed into. Judging by the color of the symbol on his shirt (some kind of 3x3 grid, all straight lines and right angles) he’s another rust blood - he’s got large, curling horns just like Ara- your thoughts stutter for a second before you force yourself to move past it. He has dark red pants, red-framed shades and a wide grin that lets you see his large, square teeth. The smile looks friendly and honest, which automatically puts you on guard.

You look between his outstretched hand and open expression a few times before you eventually grab hold and let him pull you up. No need to burn any easy entries before you have to, after all.

“You didn’t,” you tell him shortly, then swear at yourself, because fuck, now you sound like a brat. You shut up abruptly before you can say something even stupider and dust yourself off uselessly simply to have something to do with your hands.

His grin widens and the giggles behind you, almost faded, start up again. You scowl, deeper than before, and cross your arms, refusing to look back at the little trolls behind you as you straighten up fully.

The new trolls eyebrows go up and he lets out an impressed whistle as he takes a good look at you. “Well, yer a tall one, aintcha,” he drawls as he leans back to look up at you. You snort - you’ve heard that a lot ever since you shot up with your last molt and it’s beginning to get old. He isn’t actually too much shorter than you though he does look a few sweeps younger. “I’m Helios,” he jerks a thumb at his chest for emphasis. “I’m the one in charge a all the little rascals ‘round here.” He glances at the wrigglers behind you and adopts a stern look as he crosses his arms. “An’ from what I hear these ones been misbehavin’.” He steps towards them, purposely slow, a disapproving expression on his face. “Ain’t that right, ya little brats??” The wrigglers let out frightened gasps and shrink back.

You turn to watch, a spike of panic shooting through you at his words before you notice the wrigglers struggling to hide grins behind their now clearly false expressions. It doesn’t take long for them to break - a second later and Airyss is already giggling again.

“Noooo!” he says, making an attempt to be serious even with a grin stretching ear to ear, “we been real good!”

Helios raises an eyebrow. “Really now?” he asks, pausing in his advance to rest a hand on his chin in contemplation. “So this is the Visit Block, is it?” he makes a show of looking around at the dripping walls and flickering lights in exaggerated confusion, “looks a little different ta me. Did we remodel?” he quirks a brow and resumes his slow approach.

“But it not Vvisit!” Cybele challenges, giggling as he scrambles back out of Helios’s reach. You perk up and listen harder - this ‘Visit’ shit sounds important - you practically hear the capitals. You slink back and try to go unnoticed in hopes they’ll forget you and let something slip. “So it not count!”

The other eyebrow rises to join the first and Helios’s grin slips into a frown for a split second before he forces the brightness back in. “Nah,” he agrees, “it ain't a proper Visit,” he pauses and the wrigglers nod enthusiastically, bright expressions on their little faces, “but I know Eri said ta treat it like such. So that excuse ain’t gonna let you off the hook!” He pounces forward and forces the group of wrigglers to scatter rapidly. Helios lands in a crouch and makes an exaggerated display of frustration at their successful escape, adopting a distorted expression of impotent rage and shaking a fist at the ceiling.

His actions send the little ones into peals of laughter as they cling to the walls and duck away any time Helios comes near. The longer you watch the clearer it becomes that they’re all playing some kind of game, though not one you recognize. You’ve never even seen anything like it before. In your experience trolls tend to stay to themselves (it’s infinitely safer that way, after all) and when they _have_ to associate with other trolls they usually stick to their own age groups and hemocast. Even then the games trolls play are most often violent and dangerous, which this most definitely is not. Seeing trolls so obviously different interacting like this… it reminds you of how your lusus was, before things got bad, or how things were between you and Aradia before… that. It’s… weird, definitely, and watching it makes your chest ache and you don’t know why.

“None of _you_ guys had to hide!” Nyalla protests, a pout on her face as she scuttles backward out of Helios’s reach, clutching the grub in her arms close to her chest, “it’s not fair!”

Helios follows her, purposely slow, a huge grin on his face. “That so?” he asks, “and here I thought me n’ Ris was right in there with ya.” He pastes a look of mock confusion on his face and brings a hand up to rub his chin as if in deep thought. “Was that jus’ a dream, then?” Cybele giggles from behind him and he whirls on the small wriggler, darting towards him so fast he has to scurry desperately to escape. Nyalla uses the distraction to slip away, plastering herself to the wall and inching her way down.

“Nooo!” Cybele cries out dramatically. He dives behind Airyss and barely escapes Helios’s grasping hands. The older troll pulls back and snaps his fingers, ‘tch’ing in exaggerated frustration.

“That don’t count!” Learin protests, scowling from across the hall as he stomps his foot angrily, “you n’ Rilusus are ALWAYS with us!” Helios turns to look at him and Airyss darts out in a rolling dive across the hall and distracts him before he can make a move toward the jade troll.

“‘Sides!” Airyss calls, jumping to his feet and standing as tall as he can (not very - he’s barely taller than Eridan’s mini-me, and you’re pretty sure they’re a couple sweeps apart). “We escaped! So we getta explore!” he lectures the older troll, his hands planted on his hips.

Helios grins, all teeth and brightness. “Nuh-uh~,” he returns, sing-song, “Rules say ya only get ta explore til ya get found.” His smile ratchets up another notch and officially enters creepy-ville. “And you lot got found~!” He snatches suddenly at Airyss but the boy manages to duck at the last second and skips away again.

“How’s ya find us, anyway?!” Learin asks angrily from across the hall. Helios turns to the jade, and the other three wrigglers take advantage of the distraction to bolt away. You notice Helios’s eyes flicker after them, but he keeps his focus on Learin. “Qezzy was ’posed ta keep you guys busy!”

Airyss and Cybele dart off down the hall and come to a stop a few doors down, whispering and shooting fleeting glances back at the rest of you. You wonder why they stopped - if you were in their position you'd've been gone the first chance you got - and they've had a lot of chances. Helios doesn’t even seem to be trying that hard to catch them. What are they waiting for?

A sharp tug on the back of your shirt and a tiny voice whispering, “hide me!” makes you jump back to attention. You look wildly over your shoulder to find Nyalla snuck up behind you and is using your larger form to block herself from view. She’s smiling up at you, toothy grin with a few fangs missing. She has a hand fisted in the back of your shirt and doesn’t seem inclined to let go anytime soon.

You freeze solid, paralyzed by the small hand grasping your shirt and your thoughts stutter. It’s - she’s - trolls _don’t_.

Trolls _don’t_ just _touch_ each other - not without reason and almost never without intent to harm - and your hide starts to crawl at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Q did a good job distractin’ us, yeah,” Helios agrees, and there’s an undercoating of pride in his voice though you can’t figure out _why_ , “but ya know his stuff ain’t gonna keep me fooled.” He advances on the pouting wriggler, arms outstretched as he boxes him in against the wall. “Ain’t nothing keeps me fooled for long,” he adds smugly.

Down the hall Cybele and Airyss seem to have figured something out - they’ve stopped whispering and started to creep back towards the group, careful and quiet as they try to sneak up behind the larger troll. Helios seems oblivious as he concentrates on cutting off all of Learin’s escape routes before he goes in for the kill.

Nyalla digs her claws further into your shirt as she follows their progress, tearing holes in the fabric as she stuffs her other hand in her mouth muffle her giggles. The feel of her small fists against your back distracts you from worrying about the destruction of your clothes. You can’t remember the last time you were in physical contact with someone, and it’s weird and strange and not at all the kind of touch you're used to and you can’t figure out why you don’t hate it.

Learin scowls furiously and crosses his arms as he tries to glare the other down. “Not fair!” he protests, petulant. His eyes slip away to look at the wrigglers slowly creeping up but he forces them back to the larger troll, somehow managing to glare harder. “Cheat!”

“Do not!” Helios draws back, insulted. The two wrigglers behind him take the opportunity to leap at him, and for a moment it looks like their surprise attack is going to work.

At the last second, however, Helios whirls around and grabs at them, snagging Eridan’s clone mid air and barely missing catching Airyss as well. “Got you!” he cries triumphantly, wrapping the tiny troll up in his arms and tickling his sides viciously. In the commotion Airyss and Learin manage to dart back across the hall.

“Noooooo!” Cybele whines loudly, but he’s unable to contain his laughter even as he thrashes in the other’s grip. Helios holds fast, unwilling to give up his prize, and eventually, Cybele sags and gives up the fight.

Helios turns on the other two wrigglers watching him warily from across the hall. “C’mon Littles,” Helios calls, a touch less playful and a tad more exhausted as he swings Cybele onto his shoulders. The wriggler grabs his horns to keep balance, though Helios doesn’t seem to notice as he advances on the cowering boys. “Time ta head back ta the herd.”

The wrigglers whine despondently - even Nyalla lets out a noise of protest, though she quickly quiets it by pressing her face into your back. You have no fucking clue how to react to that, so you freeze in lieu of doing _anything_.

“Hey now,” Helios says, slightly scolding but mostly tired, and the tiny trolls all wilt. “Ya know I’d let ya out longer if I could,” he frowns slightly as he crouches down to be on their level, “but now ain’t a good time.” He looks stern, and all the wrigglers deflate a little at his tone. He grins, wry. “‘Sides, Iso’s figured out y’all were missin’ and chewed my ears off for it - ya ain’t gonna make me go back empty-handed now, are ya?” he puts on an expression of fear to back up his words, but this time none of the kids laugh.

“But wwe not done ‘splorin’!” the little blue hanging on his horns protests, lower lip jutting out and brows furrowed in displeasure.

“We hadn’t even found any new places!” Airyss complains, arms crossed and frowning heavily. Helios makes a half-hearted grab at him, but he scoots away at the last minute, still not willing to give up.

Learin sulks, glaring at the bigger troll as he stomps his feet. “We only found Cy’s stupid sparks!” He points at you suddenly and you jump, surprised any of them even remembered you were here. Cybele whines at the accusation, but Learin ignores him, “not even anythin’ dangerous!”

You glare, insulted. You can be fucking dangerous when you want to be!

It's just, uh, that you don’t want to be right now.

Yeah.

Learin stops to glare for a moment too long and Helios manages to grab him on his next swipe. The jade gives an outraged cry as Helios scoops him up and proceeds to ruffle his hair roughly as he struggles to escape, growling and spitting as he thrashes around. Helios barely seems to notice the violent tantrum and waits calmly for him to settle. “Sorry bud,” he tells him, audibly sincere, “adventure’s over for now.”

Eventually, Learin runs out of energy. Pouting ferociously and crossing his arms, he dangles from Helios’s grip, clearly unhappy. Helios grins and pats his head again, earning another growl, and looks towards the last free wriggler (besides the two using you as a shield).

Airyss gulps and backs up, hitting the wall. Helios starts towards him and Airyss skitters away, scrambling back on hands and knees to avoid him. His roving eyes land on you and then on Nyalla half hidden behind you. “Nys!” he cries, and the small troll behind you jumps, “help!” He stumbles to his feet and dashes towards you, barely managing to avoid Helios’s grasp. He reaches you and grabs onto your hand, pressing himself to your back next to Nyalla, who lets out a startled squeak. “Save me from Helilusus!” he pleads dramatically, looking up at you with huge eyes and the most pitiful expression you’ve ever seen.

You freeze again, mind and body still as stone as you feel the burning heat pulsing from the small hand gripping tightly to your own. The - the last time someone - it was _Ara-_ his hand is so _small_ , it feels like you might break it if you so much as _twitch_ -

Your brain succumbs to information overload and blasts an ERROR: SYSTEMS CRASHED, REBOOT? message as you essentially stop functioning. You hit the metaphorical yes button and wait desperately as your system restarts.

Helios advances slowly on the four of you, Cybele perched on his shoulders and Learin hanging despondently from his arms, refusing to look at any of you. The older troll ignores you, focus entirely on the trolls hiding behind you.

Nyalla tugs sharply on the back of your shirt and with a herculean effort you manage to gather enough of your wits to look her way. She stands on tiptoe in an attempt to whisper in your ear, but as she’s about half your height she ends up loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tell him to let us stay!” she whisper-shouts, expression intent, “he’s gotta listen to you!”

You quirk an eyebrow, lost. There’s no reason this strange troll is going to listen to _you_ \- sure, you’re above him on the hemospectrum and at least a sweep older, but it’s clear he’s the one in charge here, not you. You don’t know why she’d think you’d do so, either, and the amount of trust these small trolls are showing is starting to freak you out. This kind of behavior is _not_ in your species nature - the only troll you know who acts like this would be TV, maybe, and as much of a fucking wimp as he is, even he’s not as free with touch as these ones - it’s throwing you off your game.

“Hey now,” Helios drawls, drawing attention back to him, “that just ain’t being fair.” He scowls playfully, the hand not occupied with troll carrying popping up to rest on his hip as he comes to a stop, still several paces away. Despite his light tone he’s eyeing you warily, though you’re can’t tell if the wrigglers notice.

“Is too!” Airyss fires back heatedly. sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry, “he’s a grown up troll! - like Erimom grown!” He nods at his own statement, like what he’s said is an incontestable truth, “so he gets to make the rules!”

“And he’s gonna protect us, just like Erimom!” Nyalla chimes in, voice bright, “I _saw_ it!” You shoot her a look, baffled. Not that you _wouldn’t_ , persay, but you aren’t necessarily looking to make any commitments here, and you have no idea where she would have gotten the idea.

For some reason her words give Helios pause. “Did ya, now?” he mutters, almost to himself. He stares at you for a minute, quiet, and you squint back, unsettled. After a moment the corners of his mouth tug up and he gives a slight nod.

They’re talking about you like you’re not standing right there, and it’s pissing you off. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you demand, voice terse. You go to cross your arms and remember at the last minute one of them is otherwise occupied. You’re distracted again by the warm hand in yours, staring down at Airyss. He looks back up at you, face open and hopeful in a way that puts you on edge.

Nyalla tugs on your shirt again, and you shake yourself from your thoughts to focus on the other tiny hand hanging onto you (this is not at all how you thought this night was going to go - this is not how you thought _any_ night was going to go, _ever_ ). She looks up at you, eyes huge and glassy behind her glasses as she bites her lip. “You’ll stay, right?” she asks you, voice small. In her arms Umidan echoes her gaze, eyes huge and watery as the grub makes tiny chirping noises that call on long buried instincts. “Please! You gotta!”

“Uh,” you say, eloquent as fucking _ever_.

Airyss tugs at your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Ya gotta stay!” he tells you, “if Nys says ya gotta, ya _gotta!_ ”

“Sparky no leavve!” Cybele cries out, pounding a tiny fist on one of Helios’s horns in protest. The older troll winces and gently reaches up to stop the abuse - the little blue doesn’t even notice, too distraught. “I find you! You no leavve!” He looks like he might cry.

“Uhh…” is the only noise you can manage to make. It’s like you’re a fucking broken record here, and you _hate_ it, but your brain is doing that thing where it stutters over every thought again and refuses to help you figure out your current situation (you fucking hate your brain sometimes). These trolls seem weirdly insistent on you staying, for reasons that seem clear to them but are a complete mystery to you. _Fuck._ In spite of your attempts to escape you’re being drawn in again - fuck, you couldn’t even make it out of this place before it sunk its claws into you and pulled you back in.

“ _I_ don’t want him here,” Learin mutters and is summarily ignored.

What is even your _life_ at this point. The longer you stay here the harder it is to remember why you wanted to leave in the first place.

You just have so many questions! You want to know whether or not Eridan was lying to you (evidence points to probably not, but your common sense still insists he has to be); you want to know what’s going on here; you want to know why Terezi seems to think it’s so important; you want to know the stories behind all the little clues you’ve seen or overheard and you want to know why the voices inside are telling you to be here.

“Hey now,” Helios interjects, stepping forward and holding out hand, “ain’t no need to get all up in his face, let’s be calm.” The wrigglers turn their pleading looks on him, but Helios stands firm, frowning back.

You open your mouth to respond (though you have no fucking idea what you’re going to say) but Helios continues before you can speak.

“We ain’t about ta be forcin’ anybody inta doin’ anythin’ they don’t wanna do, alright? That ain’t how we roll,” he chastises. The wrigglers look mullish, unwilling to listen, and Helios affects a sterner look. “Yeah?” he demands, voice hard.

He looks intently at each of them in turn and Airyss and Nyalla deflate slightly under his gaze. Cybele pouts and crosses his arms while Learin scowls and tries to look aloof and indifferent (since he’s still dangling from Helios’s arm, all it does is make him look ridiculous). Even Umidan squeals and chitters, though you don’t think the grub is actually able to understand yet (though what the hell do you even know about grubs? For all you know it _might_ ).

You still have no idea what to say or do so you remain still and silent and attempt to fade into the background. In some ways it feels like you aren’t even really there, despite the fact you’re standing in the middle of the entire group.

Helios sighs, but he seems to realize that’s likely as good as he’ll get. “C’mon,” he beckons for Airyss and Nyalla to come out from behind you, apparently done with the argument and ready to move on. “Time we got back ta the rest,” he says, and you notice a tinge of exhaustion has crept into his voice. “Now ain’t really the best time for explorin’. Ya know that.”

The last comment seems to be directed at Airyss and the little rust goes shamefaced. He looks down, shoulders hunched, and lets go of your hand to trudge forward and grab Helios’s outstretched one. The loss leaves you strangely bereft and you clench and unclench your empty hand to try to get rid of the feeling.

It’s silent for a moment as all eyes turn to Nyalla, waiting. Helios and Nyalla stare hard at each other, a battle of wills. Helios narrows his eyes and Nyalla flinches back, a huge frown spreading across her face. The older troll takes a step forward and she jerks away.

“No!” she cries loudly, shoving her face into your shirt in a sudden movement that takes you all by surprise. “He’s gotta stay!” she protests, sharp claws poking holes in your shirt and scratching along your back as she tightens her grip, “he’s _gotta!_ ”

Twisting awkwardly you look over your shoulder and - there are yellow-green tears soaking your shirt oh fuck oh _fuck_ \- what the fuck do you _do?_

You’ve never been good with crying, even if you’re the one doing it, and this situation is no different. You’re awkward and clumsy and _useless_ and you never know how to make it stop. There’s no logical reason you can think of for why this girl you’ve known all of ten minutes is so desperate for you to stay, and the confusion and discomfort are paralyzing. You shoot Helios a wide-eyed look, hoping to gog and all his angels the other troll will do something.

Helios lets out a soft breath and drops Learin back to his feet. He gently pries Cybele off his horns and passes him along to Airyss, who grabs hold of the struggling blueblood and holds tight, keeping him in place. He steps forward, kneeling down and he reaching out a careful hand. “C'mon, Nyalla,” he croons, his voice just about the gentlest thing you’ve ever heard, “it’s gonna be alright.” You hold yourself as still as possible, terrified of making the situation worse ~~like you always do~~.

Nyalla shakes her head violently and pulls farther away from Helios. A choked sob escapes her and your bloodpusher clenches sympathetically. How the fuck are these tiny little things playing such havoc on your emotions? You  _hate_ it how the fuck do you make it _stop?_

“It’s gonna be _okay_ ,” Helios repeats, somehow not at all frustrated, “shush, petal, we’ll figure it out.” The girl refuses to respond, tiny body wracked with shivers. Helios inches closer, reaching out for her and eyeing you warily as he enters your space. You feel inanely pleased - at least one of these trolls is acknowledging proper troll customs about personal space - and nod slightly as permission for him to get closer.

He returns the gesture and refocuses on the sobbing wriggler. “C’mon Nyalla,” he murmurs as he strokes a careful hand through her long hair, “ya can’t force it, ya know that. Ya gotta let 'em choose.”

Nyalla shakes her head again, clutching Umidan so hard the grub squeals in protest. She hiccups, loosening her grip and instead presses harder into your back. “No!” she protests again, voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

Helios sighs and reaches out with both hands to pull her away. When he speaks his tone is stern, edging in on cold and hard. “Nyalla -”

“I’ll thtay.”

Silence descends.

A long moment passes where you look around wildly before you realize you’re the one who said that. All eyes are on you now, three pairs hopeful, two pairs incredulous and one pair completely uninterested. Fuck. You can’t take the words back now - these little ones would probably skin you _alive_ \- but it doesn’t matter because you actually _mean_ them. You’re fucking _involved_ in this shit now, curious and invested and _needed_ , apparently. “For now, at leatht,” you amend, because you know enough about yourself to know better than to make absolute promises - who the fuck knows how you’ll feel come the next inevitable revelation. “I need to talk to ED - Eridan again.”

Helios rocks back on his heels, hands falling into his lap as he raises an eyebrow and studies you, face blank. “Yeah?”

You nod. You owe it to yourself to take one more stab at figuring this shit out - and you’re going to need to talk to the fish prince again for that, as much as hate dealing with the fishstick. You need to see Eridan again so you can remind yourself how fucking awful he is, and that every word that comes out of his mouth is fucking bullshit (though it’s really starting to look like this time it isn’t). “Yeah.”

And hey, if you don’t like what he has to say, if it all still sounds like bullshit after everything you’ve seen, then, well -

These walls aren’t that thick and you’re ~~pretty~~ sure you’ll be able to figure out that swimming thing before you drown.

Probably.

Helios looks you over for a minute more before he nods to himself and stands again. “Okay,” he agrees. You’re mildly surprised by how easy that was - based on how hard it was to convince Faiyet and her group you kind of expected you’d have to argue for a bit to get him to agree.

Apparently it’s not the same with Helios, though, as the boy grins at you and leans back, eyes pushed closed from the force of his smile. “Then let’s go,” he announces, swirling abruptly around to corral the wrigglers again.

You stare after him for a moment before a tug on your shirt makes you look down, directly into Nyalla’s pleading face. Shit. You’d forgot about _that_.

“You’ll stay?” she asks, voice quiet and hopeful in a way that makes you flinch internally.

“Yeah,” you force out, your own voice tight, and her eyes go impossibly wider, a wet sheen spreading over and making them glisten in the dull light of the corridor.

“Promise?” she begs, and you swallow dryly. You don’t like making promises you don’t know you can keep - you don’t like making promises _at all,_ really - and you have no idea what’s going to happen once you talk to Eridan again. Besides all that you don’t even _want_ to stay here, not any more than you have to to figure things out -

“I promithe,” your mouth answers abruptly, without any input from your brain and you curse the rebellious orifice as an expression of utter relief spreads across her face. _Fuck_.

“Thank you!” Nyalla beams brightly and releases your shirt to give you a tight, one armed hug. Umidan squeaks at the sudden pressure and she draws back again, still glowing, and grabs your hand.

Fuck. What have you done.

You look around desperately for a way out of this, or help, or _something_ , but all there is is Helios rounding up the three boys - it looks like Learin tried to escape again while the rest of you were distracted, and Helios is holding him by a long ear while he scolds him.

Learin rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, fuming quietly, but when Helios lets go he stays put. Helios gives him a sharp nod and shoots the other two a warning glance before he back to you and Nyalla. His eyes go to your interlocked hands and he smirks.

“Okay Nys,” he announces as he approaches, “ya got what ya wanted.” He levels her with a significant look, and she nods back solemnly in response to whatever unspoken message they’re sharing. “We ready ta go now?”

It’s clear he’s not actually asking for her permission, but the little girl nods solemnly nonetheless. Helios quirks an indulging smile and holds out his hands. “Okay then,” he snorts, and you have a sudden moment of hope he’ll take her away and make the weird emotions assaulting your bloodpusher _stop_. “How ‘bout ya let me take Umi, then,” is all he says, with a side glance at you that tells you he knows what you were hoping and enjoys watching your pain. You glare back and try to make yourself let go of the tiny hand in yourself. You can’t do it.

Fuck.

Nyalla hands over the grub without complaint and Helios takes it carefully and slips it into a panel of cloth hanging off his back. He ties a few quick knots to keep the bright cyan creature in place and pats the grub gently on the back. Umidan is silent the whole time, eyes wide and watching. Once his passenger is secured, Helios turns back to the other three wrigglers and rolls his eyes when he sees Airyss has a spitting Learin in a headlock. Cybele is clinging to his legs, preventing him from kicking as the jade struggles uselessly.

“Really?” Helios asks, his voice tinged with amusement as he saunters over, hands propped on his hips.

“He tried to escape!” Airyss defends, jumping back immediately and putting his hands in the air in a display of innocence. Learin, left struggling against nothing, falls down in a heap. Cybele barely manages to avoid being crushed, jumping away at the last moment.

Learin sits up slowly, grumbling as he rubs his head and Helios leans over him and adopts a disapproving expression. After a moment Learin senses his presence and looks up, freezing. Helios stares at him in silence until he looks away, crossing his arms and scowling heavily as he slumps.

“Time ta head back,” Helios announces to a chorus of whines he summarily ignores, turning to Cybele and offering a hand. “C’mon Little Bit, adventure’s over.” The small blue frowns and looks away, but Helios waits patiently until he accepts the hand. Helios lifts the boy up and deposits him back on shoulders in one smooth movement. “No complaining,” he tells the other two, in a tone that brooks no argument. He reaches out and grabs each troll by the shoulder and pulls them close, “we’re goin.”

He sets off, stride short to accommodate the smaller trolls, and the little green attached to your hand sets off after them, forcing you to stumble to keep up. Just a few steps down the hall Helios pauses to open a door, dropping Airyss’ hand for a second. You recognize the door as one you’d tried during your earlier rush to leave and found locked. You open your mouth to tell him, but before you can he turns the handle and the door opens without issue.

Snapping your mouth shut you scowl. You know the door was locked. You _know_ it was. Fucking _doors_. You hate them.

Helios steps through the door and starts up the set of stairs located in the block beyond, pulling his entourage along behind him. Nyalla urges you to follow and your thoughts stutter again at the tug on your hand.

Your hide tingles where it comes in contact with hers, and you’re achingly careful not to put any pressure in your hold. Something in you rebels at the thought of causing harm to these tiny trolls and you come to the conclusion that you don’t want to hurt them if you don’t absolutely have too. You don’t even want _any_ harm to come to them, not if you can help it. It’s a jarring realization and you don’t know how to deal with it, so of course you push it aside and ignore it completely.

As you walk you observe the trolls. Airyss and Learin chatter incessantly as you walk, though they don’t seem particularly concerned about whether or not anyone is actually listening. Nyalla by your side seems content to walk in silence, staring straight ahead and smiling brightly. Cybele whines at Helios from his perch up above, but seems content with the noncommittal hums the older troll lets out. Umidan stares unblinkingly at everything that falls in their line of sight.

“Helilusus!” Airyss tugs on the other troll for his attention and Helios obligingly looks down. “Didja see any a the angels??” he asks, eyes shining in excitement.

“Stupid!” Learin cuts, leaning around Helios to glare at the boy, “a‘corse he didn’t! He was with us for the whole time!”

Airyss grins, seemingly thrilled at the prospect of an argument. “You don’t know that!” he accuses, making a poor attempt to conceal his glee.

“Helilusus is _always_ with us,” Nyalla interjects before Learin can escalate the spat even more. The two boys turn to her, surprised and possibly put out at her derailment of their debate.

“Nys is right, little man,” Helios tells him, “I was holed up with the rest a ya - didn’t see any more a the battle than you did.” Subtly, he shifts his posture so the boys are separated even more, blocked from each other’s view by the cordon of his body.

It’s interesting to watch Airyss deflate in response, a pout of disappointment spreading across his face. The expression fades quickly as he gets distracted with making faces at Umidan, who chitters back and smiles, revealing a mouth full of terrifying needle-like fangs.

Learin looks smug, proud of winning the short-lived argument, head held high and a spring in his step. You all fall silent, but it doesn’t last long.

“Sparky! Sparky!” Cybele calls out, leaning backwards precariously to hang upside down, hands fisted tight around Helios’s horns - the other troll winces at what must be a painful pull, but doesn’t react otherwise.

It takes a second before you realize he’s probably talking to you. You quirk an eyebrow and look around to make sure, but everyone else is looking at you, too. “Yeah?” you prompt.

“Showw me your sparks!” he demands excitedly. He stares at you like he expects you to comply automatically, which first of all; _no_ \- you don’t take orders from anyone, and second of all; what the hell does that even _mean?_

“Hey, hey,” Helios breaks in, “it ain’t polite ta just demand somethin’ like that!” He tilts his head forward, forcing Cybele upright again with a small grunt.

Cybele frowns down at him, upset with the scolding. But he twists around and adds a grudging, “Please?” and yeah, you can definitely see Eridan in him now - he’s just as bossy and entitled as the seadweller. It’s somehow less annoying on the little troll, however. When you don’t answer his face falls and his eyes get huge and watery in a way that sends a rush of panicked emotion through you. “ _Please?_ ”

“Uh,” you stall, unsure how to respond and stuttering like an idiot at the prospect of more tears. “What are 'thparkth'?”

Cybele cheers up when you respond, though it turns quickly to confusion. “Sparks are sparks!” he explains, eyebrows scrunched as he crosses his arms and tilts his head precociously.

Well that clears up absolutely nothing. You fail to resist the urge to roll your eyes and raise a brow, sending him a flat look. Cybele scowls, which is an adorable expression on his face, and Nyalla stifles laughter with a sleeve.

Helios lets out a bark of laughter and lets go of Airyss for a second to reach up and pat Cybele on the leg. “Why don’t ya jus’ show him, Cyb?” he suggests, and the boy perks up, nodding enthusiastically.

Cybele lets out a pleased noise, clapping his hands together and grinning brightly, previous irritation instantly forgotten. You watch as he hunches over with a look of intense concentration and clasps his hands together, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

For a moment, there’s nothing, and then -

Oh.

 _Psionics_.

He means psionics.

Sparks are psionics.

Violet electricity dances across Cybele’s hands as he pants a little, staring at the static with an enraptured expression. Helios winces a little at the proximity, his short hair fluffing up and straining towards the energy. “Sparks!” Cybele announces proudly, pushing his hands out for you to see.

But - blue bloods don’t have psionics. Nothing over cyan does! (Well, you’ve heard tales about purples with psychic powers, but that’s just _fantasy_ , like the idea of Breeders - uh, on second thought maybe it’s time for you to revisit those ideas...)

So Cybele _can’t_ be a blue blood, right? But, he has the facial structure and physique common to the hue, and the color of the symbol on his chest is _definitely_ blue -

“Sollux?” Nyalla asks, interrupting your thoughts. You jerk, surprised, and she squeezes your hand, head tilted to look up at you. When you glance down she smiles slightly and turns forward again.

You look back to Cybele, who’s still twisted around to face you and kept in place only by Helios’s hold on his leg. “Sparks!” Cybele insists, thrusting his hands out at you again and setting off another array of sparks.

Helios winces again, uncomfortable with the electricity being generated so close to his face. “That’s enough,” he grumbles to the little troll, jostling him slightly, “turn ‘em off now.”

Cybele frowns but obliges, letting the sparks fade as he stares at you with wide eyes. “You turn!” he informs you imperiously, and it suddenly hits you again just how _much_ he reminds you of Eridan.

Glancing around, you see the rest of the wrigglers trying to look uninterested, studiously looking away and pretending to be fascinated with other things. They’re sneaking glances every few seconds, though, so you know they’re curious too. The only one besides Cybele who isn’t feigning disinterest is Umidan, who’s staring unblinkingly at you (it’s actually pretty creepy and you shudder and look away quickly).

Huh.

Well, you’ve never been able to resist showing off when the opportunity presents itself. You smirk, a quick quirk of your lips, and feel out your psionics. They’re still largely drained from the your earlier use, your uneasy sleep earlier having done little to revitalize them. But there’s enough for what you have planned.

“Thure,” you say, smirking wider when Learin and Airyss jerk around to stare, eyes wide with interest. Nyalla turns her face up to you, smiling, and your lips stretch into an honest smile for a moment before you gently untangle your hands, stepping away to gain space.

“You all ready for thith?” you ask, teasing, and five eager faces and one smiling one nod back.

And with a snap of your fingers you begin your light show.

* * *

 -- heirsBulwarked [HB] began trolling intersectedDirection [ID] at 12:12 --

> HB: Iso   
>  HB: R u t#ere  
>  ID: Wha† is i† Helios?  
>  HB: Well Ive got some good news and Ive got some bad news  
>  ID: Helios. I am curren†ly neck deep in Angel ash and no† remo†ely in †he mood †o play games.   
>  ID: Unless you have some†hing †o repor† abou† †he wrigglers YOU los†, I do no† have †ime †o †alk.  
>  HB: Yea so t#ats t#e good news!   
>  HB: I found t#em  
>  ID: Wha†?!   
>  ID: You have?!   
>  ID: Are †hey alrigh†?   
>  ID: Are †hey hur†?   
>  ID: Are you hur†?   
>  ID: Where are you?   
>  ID: Where were †hey?   
>  ID: Are †hey wi†h you?  
>  HB: W#oa w#oa w#oa   
>  HB: Calm down curly#orns no need for t#e panic   
>  HB: T#ey were exactly w#ere I knew t#eyd be   
>  HB: And t#ey r fine Im fine everyones fine and we r all gonna be FINE  
>  ID: Oh †hank cod.  
>  HB: So rein it in a little ok  
>  HB: Now really aint t#e time for panicking  
>  ID: You are cer†ain †hey are well?   
>  ID: No one is injured or impaired?  
>  HB: Isover.  
>  ID: … Yes.   
>  ID: I apologize, Helios. I know you would never le† any†hing un†ward happen †o †he wrigglers, despi†e your of†en lackadaisical a††i†ude †owards your chosen role.  
>  HB: W#atever Iso   
>  HB: I dont care w#at u t#ink   
>  HB: And besides we aint really got t#e time   
>  HB: Turns out t#ere are bigger seabeasts ta fry  
>  ID: S†ill I   
>  ID: Wha† do you mean?  
>  HB: I still #avent told u the bad news   
>  HB: R u ready for it  
>  ID: …   
>  ID: Wha† is †he bad news Helios.  
>  HB: So it turns out t#e brats werent just out for t#eir typical adventure   
>  HB: And it wasnt like we t#oug#t  
>  HB: Lear and Airs werent t#e instigators  
>  ID: †hen who was?  
>  HB: Cyb got #is electrical sensor all sparked up and ran off ta find t#e source  
>  ID: Oh cod no.   
>  ID: No† †his again.   
>  ID: Well wha† did he sense †his †ime? A s†ray glow grub? A broken power line? A grub-slice browning device submerged in a full ablu†ion†rap?   
>  ID: A† †he very leas† i† canno† possibly be as bad as †he firs† †ime.  
>  HB: Worse actually  
>  ID: Wha†?   
>  ID: How could i† possibly be any worse?! He almos† died †he firs† †ime!  
>  HB: Yea well t#is time its alive  
>  ID: … Wha†?  
>  HB: #e tracked down the Player  
>  ID: Wha†?!   
>  ID: Why?  
>  HB: Somet#ing to do wit# #is psionics resonating wit# t#e Players I t#ink   
>  HB: Not too sure   
>  HB: U know Cyb aint all t#at clear about w#y #e does t#e t#ings #e does  
>  ID: ...   
>  ID: I would have †hough† he would be long gone by now.   
>  ID: I had hoped so, a† leas†.   
>  ID: Faiye† says †ha† his abrup† arrival and depar†ure upse† Eridan.  
>  HB: T#at fucker  
>  ID: Despi†e wha† †he o†hers say I main†ain †ha† we would have managed fine wi†hou† him.  
>  HB: U and me bot# but nevermind t#at   
>  HB: It gets worse  
>  ID: Did he hur† †hem?!   
>  ID: IF HE HUR† †HEM  
>  HB: NO   
>  HB: CALM T#E FUCK DOWN  
>  ID: I WILL †EAR  
>  HB: Iso I *told* u everyones *fine*   
>  HB: SO CALM T#E FUCK DOWN RIG#T NOW  
>  ID: I   
>  ID: I apologize. I† appears I am s†ill on edge.  
>  HB: Its fine I get it   
>  HB: Now is not t#e best time for all a t#is   
>  HB: But it is w#at it is and weve got to deal wit# t#at  
>  ID: …   
>  ID: You are righ†.  
>  HB: W#atever   
>  HB: Anyway, I actually t#ink t#ey took a liking to #im  
>  ID: Wai† wha†  
>  HB: Yea I know its super weird  
>  ID: Incredibly so.  
>  HB: But it actually gets worse   
>  HB: Again  
>  ID: How could i† possibly a† †his poin†? We are already in ano†her universe †ha† we unders†and no†hing abou†, our primary care†aker, leader, and †he only effec†ive figh†er will be ou† of commision for †he nex† few perigees - no† †o men†ion †ha† every†hing we have been preparing for is now beyond useless.   
>  ID: In addi†ion †o all †ha† we are curren†ly surrounded by a hos†ile enemy incapable of being harmed by †he majori†y of our forces. Our si†ua†ion is so dire we have been forced to allow an ou†sider in†o our hive so he could do †he job †ha† we should be able †o do on our own.   
>  ID: So how in Gl’bgolyb’s name could †hings possibly ge† any worse?  
>  HB: Nys went to find #im cuz s#e says #es important  
>  ID: Fuck.  
>  HB: Yea   
>  HB: S#e says #e #AS to be #ere or t#ings wont work out rig#t  
>  ID: Fuck.  
>  HB: And #E wants ta talk ta Eri  
>  ID: FUCK.  
>  HB: Couldnt really tell #im to fuck off after t#at so #es following me now   
>  HB: We r #eaded back to t#e Rumpusblock  
>  ID: Fuck. Are you posi†ive †hat Nyalla has ac†ually seen †his?  
>  HB: Iso   
>  HB: U know s#e doesnt lie   
>  HB: Not about stuff like t#is  
>  ID: ...   
>  ID: I know.   
>  ID: I suppose I was jus† hoping i† was no† †rue - †ha† †hings migh† ins†ead go our way for once.  
>  HB: Fat c#ance of t#at #appening t#ey never do  
>  ID: †rue.   
>  ID: Well, no† much we can do abou† i† now.  
>  HB: Yea   
>  HB: …  
>  ID: You have a ques†ion.  
>  HB: Yea   
>  HB: #ows Eri  
>  ID: …  
>  HB: T#ats not a good sign  
>  ID: He is fine.   
>  ID: He will pull †hrough, as he always does. Faiye† is seeing †o him, and †here is no reason for us †o worry.   
>  ID: †his is no† †he firs† †ime we have done †his, nor is i† †he first †ime we have encoun†ered difficul†ies.  
>  HB: Bulls#it  
>  ID: Wha†  
>  HB: I said bulls#it   
>  HB: Dont u give me t#e bullcrap we r feeding t#e Littles Iso   
>  HB: Tell me w#ats really going on   
>  HB: #ow is #e  
>  ID: …   
>  ID: I do no† know.   
>  ID: Faiye† says he won’† le† anyone in.  
>  HB: T#at’s not t#at unusual  
>  ID: Apparen†ly i† is worse †his †ime.   
>  ID: Mos† likely because of how †hings ended las† †ime.  
>  HB: Fuck  
>  ID: My sen†imen†s exac†ly.  
>  HB: ...   
>  HB: W#at are we gonna do  
>  ID: We will do wha† Eridan has always †augh† us †o do - apap† †o †he changes. Learn every†hing we can abou† our si†ua†ion. Make plans. Wa†ch ou† for †he o†hers. Pro†ect ourselves and †he Hive. Survive.   
>  ID: We will make i† †hrough †his.  
>  HB: Will we?  
>  ID: ...   
>  HB: ...   
>  ID: ...   
>  HB: ...   
>  ID: I will mee† you near †he meal block on floor seven †o collec† †he Player.  
>  HB: So u r ignoring me #u#   
>  HB: Alrig#t w#atever I can roll wit# t#at  
>  ID: You finish †aking our li††le †roublemakers back to †he Rumpusblock.  
>  HB: So u r def not gonna answer me  
>  ID: No.  
>  HB: ...   
>  HB: W#atever lets just get t#is done   
>  HB: See you soon boss-a-roon

\-- heirsBulwarked [HB] ceased trolling intersectedDirection [ID] at 12:21 --

> ID: Your idio†ic nicknames are ge††ing even more ridiculous - you are aware †ha† no one likes †hem, correc†?  
>  ID: Oh. You have lef†.  
>  ID: I really do despise i† when you do †ha†.

\-- intersectedDirection [ID] ceased trolling heirsBulwarked [HB] at 12:22 --

* * *

You’ve been making trails of light and bursts of electricity appear in different patterns and shapes to the wrigglers enraptured entertainment for a little while now. Helios leads you through ED’s hive more easily now that the wrigglers are distracted and no longer interested in trying to escape. You have yet to run into anyone else in your travels, though you swear you’ve heard people moving or talking a few times. You’ve grown accustomed to the empty hallways, so you’re startled when you turn a corner and suddenly come across another troll at the end of the hall.

Surprisingly, you actually recognize this one. It’s Is… Is-something, the presumably brown-blooded troll with the weird cross shaped weapon that you fought with earlier. They’re seated primly in one of the sitting apparatuses placed in the junction of the corridors, one leg crossed delicately over the other and gloved hands resting neatly in their lap, staring straight ahead down the hall in your direction.

Helios doesn’t seem surprised to see the other troll. As he leads you towards them, Isanor (was that it?) stands up in one smooth motion and crosses their arms, fingers tapping idly as they observe your approach. Their eyes fix on you and you realise they were waiting for you. The psionics die in your hands at your distraction, and the wrigglers let out chitters of protest at the lost before they spot the other troll and come to sharp attention.

The group shambles unevenly to a halt and Islait (maybe?) shifts their attention to the wrigglers, a stern look over taking their features. The wrigglers shift uncomfortably in response and try to subtly hide out of sight behind you and Helios. They are entirely unsuccessful and Isjank (no, definitely wrong) narrows their eyes.

“Heeey Iso,” Helios greets nonchalantly. He releases Airyss and Learin in order to stuff his hands in his pockets as he slouches, grinning lazily at the other troll. The two boys make no attempt to escape, shuffling further behind him in an attempt to avoid the glaring troll. Cybele shifts down and tries to disappear behind Helios’s horns with little success, but the movement only serves to draw Iso… ter? (that's close! maybe…)’s attention.

They frown severely and sweep their gaze around to include the rest of the cringing wrigglers. “There is quite a lot I would like to say to you about your foolish behavior and the consequences there of,” Isolyn (nope that one is super wrong) starts, voice and expression both pinched with suppressed ire, “but unfortunately I do not have the time for that.” The wrigglers look relieved and Isodel (why is it so hard to figure out one troll’s name?!) narrows their eyes even further. “Riszhi and Helios will have to deal with you for now,” they announce, and just like that the wrigglers are back to looking terrified again, which seems to satisfy Isooni (ha, no). “I am very disappointed in each one of you. All of you know better then to sneak off in such a manner - especially now.” They sigh again, giving each of the slumping trolls a hard look. “Really, we expected better.”

The little trolls all cringe at Isoman’s (still not right) words, shrinking in on themselves. Learin and Airyss both make as if to respond, but the older troll stares them down until they close their mouths.

“Hey, c’mon Isover,” Helios speaks up into the silence, and fuck, yes, that’s it! Isover is the brown blood’s name! “It wasn’t _that_ bad.” His attempts to mollify the other troll fall short when Isover shifts their glare to bore into him.

“Now is not the time,” Isover bites out shortly, and Helios shuts up, standing a bit straighter at their tone. “Take them back to the Rumpusblock. I will deal with it further at another time.” Helios nods in agreement and turns back to Airyss and Learin, gesturing Nyalla over.

Done with the conversation, Isover turns to you and ignores the others. “You wish to see Eridan again, yes?” they inquire, an eyebrow raised.

You jerk in surprise and take a second to contemplate the question before you answer. You _do_ , yes... But - things feel serious again, intensely so, and you falter. You glance at the walls around you. Getting here took you up a couple flights of stairs, and you’re reasonably sure that if you crash through the walls now you won’t be sending yourself to a watery death… But the voices inside tell you leaving right now isn’t the best decision. You look back to Isover, who is waiting patiently for your answer, face eerily blank. “Yeth.”

Isover nods and gestures for you to join them. You step forward and feel a tug on your shirt. Looking down, you find Nyalla’s looking at you, an intense expression on her face.

“Stay,” she urges softly, and then lets go, turning away and heading over to the others before you can respond. Once she joins them the group sets off down the corridor. A few of the wrigglers look back at you, and you give a little wave without really knowing what you’re doing.

Isover clears their throat and you turn to them, embarrassed by your actions. Their face is entirely serene, but for some reason it still feels like you’re being judged.

“What?” you snap, hunching in on yourself, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

Isover shakes their head and turns in the opposite direction of where the others went. “Nothing,” they say, “come on.”

They walk away at a brisk pace and you’re forced to follow quickly or be left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope it was worth the wait!! 
> 
> This chapter kicked my ass a little bit, what with the super long trollian log (they are a bitch to write omg why did I give these characters these typing quirks????) and also the fact I kept having to re-write whole portions again and again until they worked. 
> 
> Sorry Eridan isn't in this, but he'll be back next chapter! Hopefully you aren't too tired of my OCs yet! If you don't like them, don't worry! These ones'll be out for a little while. If you do like them, don't worry! They'll be back eventually.
> 
> I love everyone who reads this, and all your reviews warm my heart! As always, let me know if you notice something wrong or if something doesn't make sense!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _Eridan’s face flushes violet, and you manage to catch a glimpse before he ducks his head to hide it, and the spots of light on his face grow brighter with it. Fascinating. You tilt your head to try to see his face again, but he ducks back behind his hair and mumbles something you don’t catch, clutching at his side with one hand._
> 
> _“What?”_
> 
>  _“...w-were the strongest Player I thought w-would come,” he finally mutters, and you find yourself oddly flattered. Eridan thinks you’re strong?? Well, if_ that _isn’t just a boost to your ego. A smile spreads across your face, but you quickly stifle it. No reason to let fishdick think you’re smiling at him._
> 
> EDIT 05/03/2017: edited the Trollian log and Cybele's accent.


	8. ==> Sollux: hey, maybe don’t run off this time?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux talks to a lot of different people and finally manages to figure a few things out. Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long!! This chapter was a struggle to get through all three rounds of editing, and last week was my birthday, so I didn't have a lot of free time! I tried to work on this on an overnight work trip, but that didn't work too well, lol.
> 
> I'm thinking that going forward for the next little bit I'll have to take a week and a half to two weeks for each chapter, so I can make some headway on later chapters and plot stuff, at least until I get a good buffer of finished chapters.
> 
> Anyway, some new characters show up this chapter, as well as some old ones! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sollux, swearing, talk of Conscription, talk of sloppy makeouts, eggs
> 
> ALSO: go back and re-read chapter 6! I added a chat-log!

**== > Sollux: hey, maybe don’t run off this time?**

Hey, fuck off. You do what you want.

Wow, okay, dude. Whatever, just get on with it!

You were going to anyway!

The annoying impression of a voice in your head fades away and you bid it good riddance, focusing back on the situation at hand.

Both of you are silent as you head down into the bowels of the ship. Isover sets a brisk pace staring straight ahead, ignoring you entirely, their posture stiff and unapproachable. You do your best to keep up, stumbling slightly as your weary limbs refuse to cooperate, but managing all the same. The walk seems to take forever, the uncomfortable silence making time stretch and your anxiety rise.

Inevitably, you break. The tension is too overwhelming to ignore, and you end up blurting out the first thing to crosses your mind.

“Tho… you theem pretty thmart,” you begin, awkward and far too loud in the echoing corridors. Isover shifts, looking over at you in acknowledgment, but doesn’t slow. You cough uncomfortably and avoid their piercing eyes, focusing elsewhere. “Tho how ith it you ended up becoming part of fith-” a heated glare and you amend your word choice “- _ED’s_ army?”

You resist the urge to bang your head against a wall. Good fucking job there, Sollux, _real_ fucking smooth! Accuse your guide of being part of a secret army AND insult their leader, brilliant move, that’ll _really_ endear you to them.

Isover narrows their eyes at you, the marks on their cheeks stretching their expression into a scowl. You do your best not to squirm as they study you, swallowing heavily and keeping your mouth shut - only thing for it now is to just run with it. Finally, with a quiet noise of disgust and a dismissive twitch of their ears, Isover turns forward again.

“This is not an army,” they tell you, voice flat. You hold in a snort - that’s exactly what someone in a secret army _would_ say. Isover cuts you a piercing look and you sober up. “Not in the sense you are thinking. None of us were ever recruited by Eridan, nor have we ever been required to do anything we were unwilling to.”

Isover obviously believes their own words - there’s even a distinct note of pride in their voice. But you’re still skeptical. The only times you’ve ever seen trolls work together like this is in picture reels about life in the Fleet. And you’ve _never_ seen a group of trolls work together with so little violence before. Though, granted, you don’t interact with others much yourself, preferring to keep to your lonesome and have your interactions online.

You say as much, voice carefully neutral, and Isover quirks their mouth and shakes their head, amused.

“We act like this in preparation for _joining_ the Fleet,” Isover snorts, rolling their eyes, “or at least we _did_ , before the Fleet was utterly destroyed - which, actually, we all owe you thanks for.” They meet your eyes, expression full of some heated emotion you can’t identify, and you freeze uncomfortably. Isover either doesn’t notice or care and continues. “We dedicated ourselves to training for the roles we would be most likely to take upon Conscription.” They pause, face troubled for a second. “With our… let us say, _unusual_ upbringings, doing so provided our best chances for survival.”

“You make it thound like you weren’t going to thurvive,” you point out idly, as the other troll leads you through a door and down a long staircase. Isover levels a cold look at you and your words catch in your throat.

“We _weren't,_ ” Isover hisses, eyes like daggers daring you to interrupt. Wide-eyed, you wave them on and they harumph disdainfully. “Generally, a lusus is responsible for preparing their troll for Conscription,” Isover explains, slow and deliberate like they’re talking to a grub - and not a particularly smart one - “but none of us have lusii to teach us, and trolls without at least the basic skills of their classes are 78.39% more likely to be culled.” They look away from you, right hand coming up to grip at their opposite elbow and squeezing.

A moment of silence passes with you at a loss for words and Isover distant before they clear their throat and continue. “Unfortunately, Eridan and Seahorsedad are only qualified to train us in very few fields, despite their efforts otherwise.” Isover’s face pulls tight, their eyes far away. It only lasts for a second, and then they shake their head and focus again. “So we decided to work together to rectify the problem ourselves.”

You reach the bottom of the stairs and Isover pauses for a moment at the door, letting out a heavy breath. “Of course, none of that matters _now_ ,” they say, voice a tad lighter, and open the door.

The corridor beyond is vaguely familiar, primarily because Faiyet is standing in front of a broken door a little ways down the hall. She’s scowling deeply, arms crossed tight and foot tapping as she attempts to bore holes in you with her eyes. You’re back at the block where you first ran away, and you don’t have the first fucking clue how you got here.

Isover takes advantage of your surprise to give you a harsh shove that sends you stumbling clumsily into the hall. You glance back, but all you see is a sardonic smirk and dull, angry, eyes. “If you must run away again, at least ensure you make it all the way out this time,” they call, one last parting shot before they shut the door with a quiet click.

In the dead silence of the hallway, it sounds like a bang.

You glance around as you straighten up, trying to regain your bearings. Faiyet is eerily silent, eyes searing even more viciously into you as the tempo of her tapping foot increases. You do your best to avoid looking directly at her, fighting back a rush of embarrassment. Running out like a gog-damned coward because you didn’t like what you were hearing is not one of your finest moments, you’ll admit.

A deep breath and you shove your hands in your pockets to hide their trembling, deliberately casual as you head towards the girl. “Yo,” you greet, forcing your lips up into a facsimile of a grin.

Your attempt at levity backfires spectacularly. Faiyet’s scowl deepens, creasing across her face as she breaks out in a snarl. Your earlier runaround clearly only served to further sour her opinion of you.

“You’reback,” she growls, low and strained and on the edge of a shout. She sounds anything but pleased.

“Yup.” You do your best to keep the nerves out of your voice, trying for flippant and missing by a mile. “Thurprithe?”

Her glare turns razor sharp, foot stilling against the floor as her ears strain back and out, quivering with tension. You can tell you’re not earning yourself any points here, which is currently the opposite of what you want. So you shut the fuck up and spread your hands out in front of you, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.

Silence as Faiyet strains to rein herself in, an inch at a time. In the quiet you can hear the muffled drip drip drip of some distant leak, the soft lapping of water against walls. It echoes in the hallway and mingles with the noise of Faiyet’s ragged breathing.

“Why’re you here?” Faiyet finally grits out, every word clipped. Talking to you is obviously the last thing she wants to do - likely any interaction with you she would prefer to be much more violent (and not in a good way). You understand the sentiment, but devolving into violence won’t solve anything ~~this time~~.

You keep your posture relaxed and open, unwilling to be the one to start a fight this time. “I need to talk to Eridan,” you tell her, voice even. You keep steady eye contact, willing her to listen.

Her eyes narrow into slits and her mouth opens in a vicious snarl she barely manages to swallow back. “And _why_ shouldI let _you_ backin?” She clearly despises you and would love any excuse to get rid of you. She hasn’t made a move to do so though, so you know something’s holding her back.

You’d bet pretty much everything you've got it's Eridan.

“Becauthe Eridan thaid you thhould.”

Faiyet slumps, defeated, and you know your gambles paid off. You resist the urge to gloat and wait her out.

A long minute passes before she drags her eyes back up to meet yours. There’s still a constrained fury in them, but it’s shuttered now, pushed back. She uncrosses her arms and growls in frustration. “Youdo _anything_ I don’tlike and I’ll _tear_ out _your_ throat,” she growls, “nomatter _what_ hesays.” Before you can respond she turns and heaves the broken door aside, revealing the watery cavern.

A puff of air wafts out from the block and it’s exactly the same as before - quiet, dark, wet, with the faint glow you now know is Eridan. The air is stale and smells vaguely sickly sweet, reminding you of spilled faygo and too-soft fruit. Gulping, suddenly nervous, you stare into the foreboding block.

Faiyet gestures impatiently. “Get _on_ with _it_ ,” she snarls, “beforeI changemymind.” Her grip tightens on the door and you know she’s serious.

Straightening, you force yourself to march inside before you can talk yourself out of it. Faiyet hauls the door back into place with a quiet thud that rings with finality and you flinch involuntarily. The light twitches slightly, spiraling in dizzying patterns on the walls as it refracts against the still water.

“Fai?” Eridan’s voice is reedy, faint and thick with sleep. Your eyes take a second to adjust to the faint light and then you’re able to see Eridan perched at the edge of the pool. He’s propped up on one hand and using the other to rub at his glasses-less eyes. “Oh.”

“Thup,” is all you can manage to squeeze out before your vocal cords freeze, paralyzed. Shit, this is so fucking _awkward_ why the hell did you come back! _Fuck_ he's staring at you fuck shit you idiot _say_ something you fucking -

“You came back,” Eridan breathes out, just in time to break you out of your panic before you do something really fucking stupid, like run (again).

You clear your throat, struggling to find words. Eridan looks shocked and confused and overall exhausted. You can’t look at his face with his expression so open and flick your eyes away. The glowing spots on his skin catch your gaze - they’re concentrated around his joints, the glow visible even through his thin shirt and are amplified by the water around his waist. The brightness undulates slowly and you find you can’t look away. It’s mesmerizing, captivating and beautiful and

\- wait, what? You shake your head abruptly, trying to throw off your muddled thoughts and focus. Eridan’s still waiting for your answer, and you swallow heavily.

 _Shit_ . Why is this so fucking hard?? There is absolutely no reason this should be so fucking difficult - it’s fucking _fishface_ \- it’s not anyone _important_ \- “Yeah.” Oh my fucking _gog_ why the hell are you so fucking _lame_ -

“Wwhy?” he asks, pinning you with a questioning stare, “I thought -” he breaks off, an unreadable expression twisting his face.

Silence stretches, heavy and oppressing. Neither of you know how to break it. Eridan shifts slightly, sliding further out of the water as he sits up more. The light wavers when he moves and it’s a struggle not to get distracted again. You force your eyes away from the flickering glow and study the seadweller.

Eridan looks nothing like he usually does, the few times you’ve seen him in video logs. There are deep shadows under his wide, hazy eyes and his skin is far too white to be healthy. He’s hunched in on himself, like being upright pains him, one arm curled around his stomach as if he’s trying to hold it in. He’s not wearing his usual outfit and the loose shirt he’s wearing has slipped off his shoulder, revealing his slender neck. Without his scarf, you can see the violet frills of his gills fluttering freely - they look perfectly functional, despite what you’ve heard. His hair is loose, mussed up and limp as it curls around his delicate chin, sticking damply to his skin. It looks longer like this, the stupid violet streak he paints in it falling over his face, shielding his eyes from view.

He trembles sporadically as he strains to remain upright and tries to pretend he’s not seconds away from collapsing. You roll your eyes and sink down to sit against the wall, making a show of looking away as you fold your legs and settle in, giving him a chance to collect himself without the distraction of posturing. You grimace at the feel of water sinking into your pants again, silently bemoaning the renewed wetness after they were almost dry. Disgusting.

When you turn back to Eridan, he’s sunk down until only his head and shoulders remain above water, looking about 20% less likely to fall over. You spare a moment to congratulate yourself on putting him at ease before your brain reminds you it’s weird you even care.

“Tho!” you let out, and Eridan turns his eyes on you, gaze curious but cautious. Unfortunately, your thoughts dry up after the first word and you’re left cursing your useless mind.

“So…” Eridan echoes, trailing off a second later. Good to know you’re not the only one having problems with this. You both fall quiet, struggling to figure out what to say in the wake of your last meeting.

“Thay I believe you,” you finally blurt out, unable to take the heavy silence a second longer. Eridan’s looks at you, his eyes filled with an uncomfortable amount of hope. You have to look away before you can continue, unable to speak when he’s looking at you with his bloodpusher in his eyes. “What happenth now?”

“I… I don’t knoww.” Eridan curls more tightly into himself, staring at you with luminous eyes. “You… you said you’d stay an’ help, right? If I told you wwhat wwas goin’ on?”

Shit, you had said that, didn’t you? Something along those lines, at least. Fuck your shitty almost promises and fuck past-you for making them. “Yeah, okay.” You let out a heavy breath and gather yourself, running a rough hand through your hair. “Fuck. What do you need me for?”

Eridan’s lips quirk upward for a second, too quick to be called a smile, his face brightening. You look away, uncomfortable with his uncharacteristic openness, focusing instead on one of the walls - and yup, it’s still gray and damp, just as incredibly boring as the last time you were here. You start cataloging the scratches on it anyway, desperate for any distraction you can find to see you through this extraordinarily maladroit conversation.

“It’s not a lot,” he hurries to assure you, leaning forward against the edge of the pool, “it’s just there needs to be an actual Player to fight off the angels an’ imps permanent like,” he explains, “an’ noww the shield’s up it’s really more of a ‘just in case’ kinda thing!”

“You need me to fight?” you ask, a little surprised. Sure, you can kick a hell of a lot of ass when you need to, but it’s not why people usually seek you out. Usually people need your help for more technical matters, like hacking and virus making. When you think about it, it does make sense - it’s pretty obvious that technological assistance is not what ED needs. You let out a frustrated huff of air and groan, tilting your head back to thump against the wall. Things really would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if all fishstick needed was some help with his husktop.

Eridan tilts his head, confused. “Yes?” he says, more of a question than an answer. “I’vve gotta look after the eggs,” he elaborates, eyes darting to the side. You follow his gaze and finally spot the eggs, tucked close in the shadow of his body. “If somethin’ gets in I can’t reely…  deal wwith it right noww, an’ the wwrigglers’ll be in danger if there isn’t an activve Player to put the enemy dowwn.”

Seeing the eggs renders you speechless for a second. You stare, transfixed, until Eridan shifts in front of them, trying for subtle and missing by a wide mile. You cough slightly and try to remember what the fuck you were just talking about.

Something about the hive… eggs, wrigglers, angels… fighting! You were talking about fighting! “Why’d you call _me?_ ” you blurt, still perplexed. You’re not exactly what you’d call the fighting type, no matter how good you can be in a pinch - that’s more EQ’s or NP’s or even fucking spiderbitch’s territory.

Eridan ducks his head. You manage to catch a glimpse of his suddenly violet face before it’s hidden from view behind the curtain of his hair. The tiny spots on his face glow brighter and you tilt your head to try to get a better look, but are distracted when Eridan mumbles something you don’t catch.

“What wath that?”

He peeks up at you through his hair but quickly averts his eyes when he sees you staring. Finally, he mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear, “...wwere the strongest Player I thought wwould come.”

 _Eridan_ thinks _you’re_ strong? You struggle to stifle the pleased grin that wants to spread across your face before the fish prince can see and misinterpret it as you smiling at him (the last thing you need right now is to encourage any of his weird quadrant fantasies). He can’t look at you at the moment, though, too concentrated on twisting his hands together under the water while he waits for your response, shoulders hunched defensively.

You let out a long sigh and run your hands restlessly through your hair. Well. Honestly, it doesn’t sound too bad (besides being in close quarters with Eridan, though in a hive this big you might never have to see him) you could deal with pounding some fuckers into the ground. Still...

“How long would I need to thtick around for?” you ask archly, looking away and pretending like you aren’t basically agreeing to stay. Your attempt at nonchalance goes unnoticed as Eridan perks up immediately, head whipping back up as he stares at you with impossibly wide eyes. In this light they look violet, but you know it’s only an illusion - your eyes won’t start coloring in for _sweeps_. It distracts you enough you almost don’t notice when Eridan starts talking again.

“Only around a perigee, or so,” he hastens to reassure you, voice breathless with suppressed hope, “then I’ll be able to get back out in the field.” He looks at you with bright eyes and you resist the urge to swear. Despite his cheerful tone, a perigee is a hell of a long time to spend away from your hive around someone you hate.

But you know what? _Fuck it._

You already said you’d do this, or at least as good as, and you know if you leave and things go wrong because of it, you’ll never forgive yourself (you never have).

“Okay,” you tell him.

Impossibly, his eyes get wider. “Okay?” he asks, voice high and anxious as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, “like, _okay_ , okay?”

Rolling your eyes, you suppress a snort. “Okay,” you repeat dryly.

Eridan’s entire being lights up, and he breathes out like a massive weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. He goes loose-limbed with relief and almost falls over, barely managing to catch himself on the edge of the pool before he sinks under. His face smooths out and his expression - you wouldn’t call it a _smile_ , exactly; more of an all around softening upward curl of his features; the bright spots littered on his body pulsate rhythmically, highlighting his features and giving off an ethereal glow -

\- your breath catches in your throat and you scramble for something, _anything_ that’ll make Eridan stop doing whatever he’s doing that’s so distracting -

“Why tho long?” you blurt out, ripping your eyes away from the seadweller and focusing back on the wall. The safe, boring, not-making-you-think-weird-thoughts wall. You love this wall.

“Ah,” Eridan says, and out of the corner of your eye you see him look at the eggs, settling down somewhat, though the weird fin fluttering glow-y thing doesn’t stop. “Um, I need to stay wwith the eggs, you knoww? Until they hatch, I mean.”

“Why?” you ask, still directing your gaze firmly at the wall, “it’th not like they’re gonna run off -” wait, for all you know, eggs actually _can_ grow legs and wander off - “right?”

Eridan studies you for a moment and you tense up slightly under his inspection. He seems to find whatever he’s looking for after a moment as he answers. “They can’t go anywwhere on their owwn,” he confirms, “but I do havve to turn them pretty often an’ wwatch the temperature.” He averts his gaze, fins falling and glow subdued and you finally look away from your wall and back at him. “It’s difficult for me to be awway from them right noww,” he admits at length, face flushed in some unidentified emotion as he shuffles around so he can curl around the eggs, “instincts, ya knoww?”

Troll instincts. One of the most beautiful and awful aspects of being a troll, of which there are precious few. They can give you an edge in a strife but they also make it damn near impossible to walk in the cities. Usually it’s best to just go along with them whenever they get triggered. Less trouble for everyone involved. “Territory thhit?” you wonder.

A second of hesitation before Eridan nods, wincing a little. “Close enough.”

“Ah.”

Eridan nods and looks away, and the conversation shrivels up and dies. Silence twists over the block and you curse effusively in your thoughts, drumming your fingers against your thigh and staring at them like you might discover something new if you look hard enough. You search for a way to break the awkward haze and come up empty. Eridan doesn’t seem to be any better off, staring blankly at the water around him and avoiding acknowledging you.

The tension thickens until you could cut it with a knife and finally you blurt out the first thought that comes to mind, unable to stand the silence an instant longer.

“Can I thee them?” Shit shit shit _shit!_ That was the last fucking thing you wanted to ask! Eridan just fucking _said_ his instincts were going haywire over this shit, now he’s going to fucking tear you to pieces, and you’ll fucking _let him_ so no one will ever know what a failure you are at such simple fucking things as _conversations_ -

“Okay.”

You jerk your head up to stare disbelievingly at Eridan, who looks just as surprised at his own words. After a moment of shocked silence, something shutters behind Eridan’s luminous eyes and his face scrunches up in the closest resemblance to the fish troll’s normal bitch-face you’ve seen all night. “But, um, you can’t touch, or - or get too close, an’ don’t -”

You’re already nodding eagerly and scrambling nearer on all fours before he can take the words back. You’re a few feet away when he cuts himself off, going completely rigid, and you pull up short and inch back until he doesn’t look like he’s about to try to murder you with his teeth.

Eridan’s still tense as a board, shoulders hunched and almost snarling as he watches warily. You sit back solidly on the floor, legs and hands tucked up underneath you to show you won’t try to come closer or touch. You wait, and ever so slowly the overt sense of threat fades from the air. He stares at you in silence for a moment before he apparently deems your actions good enough and turns back to the eggs, though you see him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You hold your breath as Eridan draws the mess of fabric partly out of the water and into his arms. He moves the covering to the side, shooting quick glances at you to make sure you aren’t doing anything as he shifts the bundle until you can see inside.

Five eggs are nestled in the fabric, encapsulating a variety of dull highblood colors - two teals, a blue, an indigo and a violet - each of them about the size of your fist. They look glossy and gel-like, squishy even, and irrationally you want to poke them to see if they wiggle. You resist the urge, positive Eridan’ll tear you to ribbons if you move even an inch closer.

You crane your neck for a better look. The light Eridan’s producing makes the eggs glitter with bright sparks of color. They’re surprisingly pretty for something so fucking _weird_ , like uncut jewels. Looking at them makes warmth spread through your bloodpusher - it freaks you out so you bury the sensation as far down as it’ll go and resolve to never think about it again.

“Huh,” you say, “they’re thmaller than I thought they’d be.”

Eridan lets out a snort, sounding like it’s been surprised out of him. “They’re big enough,” he returns, gaze soft as he looks down at the eggs, “an’ they’ll get bigger before they hatch.”

You have nothing to say to that. The two of you sit and stare, mesmerized by the tiny spheres. Silence falls again, but this time it’s almost companionable.

Eventually, you notice Eridan’s started to send quick, furtive glances your way when he thinks you aren’t looking. You focus back on him and notice he’s started to sway slightly. His entire body is sagging and he’s trying to hide it, but it’s clear he’s lagging and probably has been for a while. But he refuses to let on how tired he might be while you’re still there.

A wave of tiredness rolls over you, and your brain takes the opportunity to start bombarding you with a series of updates on the state of your body. It reminds you you’ve spent the last few nights awake solely through the power of energy drinks, staring at your husktop. That only a few hours ago you were part of a desperate fight that only ended through outside intervention. That you can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten. That you’ve been thrown into walls left and right since you stepped foot in this place, and that the most recent rest you’ve gotten was interrupted by a crazy blind troll with a hard stick.

The throbbing migraine previously hovering at the edges of your awareness roars into the forefront of your mind. Your brain viciously reminding you you’ve overused your psionics. A series of aches and pains along your body throb as your entire being dissolves into spasming pains, and suddenly you find you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Uh,” you say, eloquent as always, and Eridan looks up at the noise, blinking tiredly himself. “Tho… now we’ve actually figured thith out, where the hell can a troll get thome thleep?”

Eridan stares at you uncomprehendingly for a few moments before a look of understanding lights up his face and he glances at the door. “You can take any a the free blocks,” he offers, blinking slowly, “any one a the kids can showw you.”

You pull a face, not keen on interacting with anyone else tonight. Nevertheless, you give the fish troll a nod and pull yourself up. You make sure to go slowly so you don’t trigger any of ED’s territorial instincts. “Okay,” you agree, “I’ll, uh, go look into that…” You make your way slowly to the door, keeping your eyes locked on Eridan as you struggle to convince your body that moving is a fantastic idea and to stop its complaining.

“Thank you, Sol,” Eridan calls out right as you’ve turned to open the door. His voice is heavy with some emotion you can’t identify, but find unsettling all the same. You nod uncomfortably and hurry into the corridor, putting the door carefully back in place behind you.

Faiyet’s still stationed at her self-imposed post in the hallway, leaning against the wall, but she’s been joined by another troll. The two of them are talking quietly, expressions intense. They stop when they notice you and pin you in place with a set of hard stares.

The first thing you notice about the new troll is _red_ \- everything she’s wearing is some shade of red, from the band of fabric on her head to the boots on her feet - a more blatant display of hemostatus than you’re used to. She’s fierce looking, a frown on her face and arms crossed behind her back. She has huge horns that jut up from the top of her head and curve down around her skull, ending with an outward flare at her cheekbones. Her hair is long and straight and falls over half her face, covering one of her eyes. The other one bores into you like she can see straight through you.

Faiyet clears her throat impatiently and you jerk, looking back to her. “Areyou done?” she asks, an eyebrow arched imperiously. She folds her arms tight across her chest and glares at you.

You glare back, but you’re too tired for any real heat. “For now,” you concede grudgingly.

She frowns at your non-answer, shoulders tightening in irritation. “Wellareyou staying thistime or _what?_ ” she challenges, face pinched.

“You bet!” You grin viciously, reveling in her obvious annoyance, “I’ll be thticking around for a bit now, you’re _welcome._ ” Even in your exhausted state you can’t resist pissing her off - it’s too amusing to see her fume.

Faiyet growls, lunging forward, but the other troll grabs her before she makes it beyond than a step, wrapping a hand around her arm and holding her back. Faiyet turns on her with a hiss, claws out in threat, but the girl only shakes her head solemnly. They stare at each other for a moment in wordless silence, and finally Faiyet sags and lowers her arms. The red girl nods and releases her.

After a moment spent gathering her composure, Faiyet turns back to you. You’d jumped back when she first lunged, crouching down and gathering your psionics (only a faint fizz, at this point - you really do need to rest), but now you let them fade and straighten up, watching her warily.

“Fine,” Faiyet sneers, voice tight, “welcometotheShip.” She barely manages to hold back a sneer, looking anything but welcoming. “Don’tget comfortable.”

“That’th great and all,” you say, graciously deciding to ignore her contempt, “and I’m thure I’ll need the full tour and all eventually, but right now I’m gonna need a block.” You aren’t sure how much longer you can remain standing upright, but you refuse to show any weakness in front of one of Eridan’s... brood.

Faiyet grits her teeth and you brace yourself in preparation for another round of insults, but she draws herself short and lets out a harsh breath through her nose, clenching her fists at her sides. “Mirs,” she bites out, the other troll straightening to attention, “wouldyou please show… our _guest_ … toa freeblock?”

The other girl’s face remains entirely blank as she steps forward. She strides towards you and pauses a moment to lock eyes and make a sharp gesture down the hall before she moves on. You stare after her in confusion until it clicks she wants you to follow. A jaunty wave and a mocking, “thee you later!” You hurry after the tall girl, Faiyet’s frustrated growl music to your ears.

You catch up to the other troll with a few long strides and come up next to her. She either doesn’t notice, or care, or both, and the two of you walk in complete silence through corridors and staircases you only vaguely register. You don’t know how long you’ve been walking when your guide comes to an abrupt halt in front of a door. You’re so out of it you almost run her over before you realize she’s stopped.

You mumble an apology around a jaw-cracking yawn. She doesn’t respond, instead opening the door and waving you in. You follow the implied instruction without thought and the door closes behind you with a distinctive ‘click’.

The tiny noise jolts the paranoia center in your brain and you whirl around, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to fall for such a fucking simple trick and get yourself locked in -

\- you grab the handle in a useless attempt to leave and turn harshly -

\- and the door opens without issue -

\- because it isn’t locked.

Huh.

A little more awake with the rush of adrenaline, you stick your head out and spot the girl quickly striding away down the hall. You catch one last glimpse of her hair whipping out behind her as she turns the corner and then the hallway is empty. You glance around quickly, but there’s nothing of interest so you pull yourself back into the block.

It’s _huge_ \- the entirety of your hive could fit with room to spare, and you stare, dumbstruck. The setup is simple and generic like the corridors outside - dark walls, plush off-white rugs, white doors - but it’s clearly a respiteblock. There’s a large recuperacoon in a back corner, so big it could fit at least two trolls. A half open door next to it leads to an ablutionblock probably bigger than your own respiteblock. In the center, a large set of plush seating apparati surrounds a low table and in another corner, half hidden by sheets hanging from the ceiling, stands a concupiscent platform so fucking opulent it turns your entire face yellow.

You resolve to ignore the fuck outta  _that_ and focus instead on the tricked out husktop layout set up against the side wall.

 _Fuck_ **_yes._ **

You’re seated at the desk before you even register moving, but you don’t give it any thought because by that point you’re already booting it up. It turns on almost instantaneously, faster than any of the husktops _you’ve_ ever used, and you spend a moment fuming over the unfair advantages that get fucking _handed_ to highbloods that you’ve had to work yourself to the bone for. A second later you shake off the useless urge and focus on the screen - it’s the generic first time startup, devoid of any of the shortcuts and tricks you’ve set up on yours, but whatever.

All that matters is that Trollian is installed.

Before this opportunity presented itself, you weren’t aware how much you wanted to just fucking _talk_ to someone, _anyone_ , outside this fucking sink hole of confusion. Now that it’s here, though, you’re desperate for it, practically rabid with need. You need an outside source to make sure you aren’t somehow hallucinating this entire fucking thing, high off energy drinks and lack of sleep, and you need it now.

Logging into your Trollian account only takes a second, and you’re relieved to see there aren’t any new memos, thank _gog_. A few notifications blink erratically - KK, TZ, GZ, KN, EQ - what, did every fucking troll in this new shitty universe decide it’s talk to Sollux night or something?? You ignore all of those for now, searching for - yes! Her name isn’t grayed out, and with a deep breath and an insincere prayer you open the chat and start typing.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] at 2:22 --

> TA: aa.  
>  TA: aa.  
>  TA: aa are you there?  
>  TA: come on aa ii need two talk two you.  
>  TA: plea2e.  
>  AA: s0llux?  
>  TA: oh thank 2weet unmerciiful gogmagog.  
>  TA: youre here.  
>  AA: i was n0t expecting y0u t0 c0ntact me again  
>  AA: n0t after h0w 0ur last c0nversati0n went  
>  TA: yeah.  
>  TA: me eiither.  
>  AA: then why are y0u d0ing s0 n0w  
>  AA: ribbit

The question gives you pause (as well as the ribbit - _what?_ ) and you have to think about it, because you don’t _know._ You’re still angry with Aradia, furious even, for how she tricked you into reviving this awful, genocidal game. But feelings about AA are always complicated and murky, and all you know is you miss her, desperately, like a lost limb. She was the only one you even thought about contacting when you saw the husktop. And besides, you’re in desperate need for this connection with the outside world.

> TA: do you know what iim doiing riight now?  
>  TA: liike, can you 2ee me or however iit ii2 you get all your freaky knowledge?  
>  AA: n0  
>  AA: why  
>  TA: huh.  
>  AA: sh0uld i

You hesitate again, considering. Honestly, you kind of thought AA’d already know about all this - she’s known everything _else_ \- and this feels like a Huge Fucking Deal™. You have no idea what it means if she doesn’t already know, but a thrum of warning spasms through your feed storage sac. You don’t know if you should tell her.

On the one hand, it would be a fucking relief to share the weight of all this with someone else. On the other, you get the idea ED doesn’t want other people to know about this. On another hand, you couldn’t care less about what fishfuck wants, and on yet another hand you don’t know if you could explain any of it coherently - and by now you have four hands going which is fucking ludicrous.

You stop thinking and go back to typing.

> AA: s0llux  
>  AA: are y0u still there  
>  TA: yeah.  
>  TA: uh. iit2 probably better iif you dont know.  
>  TA: for now at lea2t.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  TA: ii thiink ii need two fiigure iit out on my own fiir2t.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: arent you even a liitle biit curiiou2 aa?  
>  AA: n0  
>  AA: if its s0mething i need t0 kn0w i will kn0w it when i need t0  
>  AA: its p0intless t0 think ab0ut it bef0re then  
>  TA: yeah ii gue22 but before you would never have let me hold out on you wiith 2omethiing liike thii2.  
>  AA: its n0t bef0re anym0re  
>  TA: ii know ii know!  
>  TA: but iit2 2tiill weiird when you ju2t let thiing2 go liike that.  
>  AA: things like that n0 l0nger matter t0 me  
>  TA: ...  
>  TA: yeah.  
>  TA: ii ju2t forget, ii gue22.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  AA: is that all y0u needed  
>  TA: ye2  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  TA: ii mean no  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  TA: ii mean ii have no fuckiing clue what ii need aa.  
>  TA: ii ju2t  
>  TA: ii need two talk two 2omeone.  
>  TA: everythiing2 happened 2o fuckiing fa2t and ii ju2t need two make 2ure iim not dreamiing iit all up.  
>  AA: y0u arent  
>  AA: unless y0u are 0n pr0spit  
>  AA: in which case y0u pr0bably are  
>  TA: iim not on pro2piit.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  AA: then y0u are n0t dreaming  
>  AA: d0es that help  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: yeah aa that make2 everythiing 2o much better  
>  TA: everythiing ii2 fuckiing fanta2tiic now  
>  TA: never been fuckiing better.  
>  AA: …  
>  AA: y0u are being sarcastic arent y0u  
>  AA: ribbit  
>  TA: giive the dead giirl a fuckiing priize!  
>  TA: 2he managed two fiigure out an emotiion!  
>  AA: y0u are still being sarcastic  
>  TA: diing diing diing!!  
>  TA: riight agaiin!  
>  AA: this is n0t helping any0ne  
>  AA: i am leaving n0w s0llux  
>  TA: WAIT!!  
>  TA: dont go!  
>  TA: iim 2orry aa!!  
>  TA: iim ju2t 2o fuckiing 2tre22ed riight now  
>  TA: ii have no clue what iim doiing and nothiing ii2 makiing any 2en2e  
>  TA: plea2e dont leave.  
>  AA: what d0 y0u want s0llux  
>  TA: ii  
>  TA: ii dont know aa  
>  TA: ii ju2t  
>  TA: everythiing here2 a fuckiing me22 ii have no fuckiing clue what iim doiing.  
>  TA: ii need two forget about iit for a whiile.  
>  AA: h0w can i help  
>  TA: ii dont know.  
>  TA: ju2t  
>  TA: talk two me  
>  TA: plea2e.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  AA: what sh0uld i talk ab0ut  
>  TA: anythiing  
>  TA: ii dont care ju2t dii2tract me.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  AA: i will update y0u 0n 0ur current state 0f pr0gressi0n  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: fiine.  
>  AA: everything is g0ing acc0rdingly  
>  AA: we are making g00d pr0gress t0wards the end  
>  TA: uh  
>  TA: that2 great aa.  
>  TA: any 2peciifiic2?  
>  AA: equius has delivered my r0b0tic b0dy  
>  TA: waiit  
>  AA: i have als0 rem0ved the device that generated feelings f0r him  
>  TA: waiit what  
>  AA: i am n0w inhabiting a r0b0tic b0dy  
>  AA: it is g00d t0 be able t0 interact physically again  
>  TA: no no no no ii got that part  
>  TA: ii mean iif ii diidnt know better  
>  TA: ii would 2wear you ju2t 2aiid 2omethiing about a deviice that generated feeling2  
>  TA: but that2 riidiiculou2  
>  AA: but i did say that  
>  AA: als0 i have already rem0ved it s0 it is n0 l0nger an issue  
>  TA: no no no no no no  
>  TA: what the FUCK?!  
>  TA: what the FUCK diid the 2hiity mu2clebea2tfucker do?!  
>  TA: ii 2wear two gogmagog and all hiis shiity giiant2 ii wiill fuckiing END HIIM  
>  AA: s0llux  
>  TA: aa ii wiill fuckiing kiill hiim  
>  AA: s0llux st0p  
>  AA: i already rem0ved the device  
>  AA: besides we had sl0ppy make0uts afterwards  
>  AA: s0 i believe we have res0lved the issue  
>  TA: WHAT  
>  TA: THAT MOTHERFUCKER  
>  TA: IILL FUCKIING KIILL HIIM  
>  AA: s0llux  
>  TA: IIM GOIING TO BREAK HII2 FUCKIING HORN2  
>  TA: MAKE THO2E 2HIITTY ARROW2 FUCKIING MATCH  
>  AA: s0llux st0p  
>  TA: WHERE DOE2 HE GET THE FUCKIING NERVE  
>  TA: WHO THE FUCK DOE2 HE THIINK HE II2?? JU2T BECAU2E HE2 A FUCKIING BLUEBLOOD  
>  TA: HE WONT GET AWAY WIITH THII2 EVEN IIF II HAVE TWO END HIIM MY2ELF  
>  AA: s0llux calm d0wn  
>  TA: II WIILL TEAR HIIM LIIMB FROM FUCKIING LIIMB  
>  TA: 2EE HOW HE LIIKE2 IIT WHEN 2OMEONE2 BEATIING ON HII2 A22  
>  AA: s0llux!  
>  TA: HE BETTER WATCH HII2  
>  AA: S0LLUX SHUT UP  
>  TA: FUCK  
>  AA: s0llux!  
>  AA: its n0t a big deal  
>  AA: i can handle it  
>  AA: i did handle it  
>  AA: and it was a necessary event f0r the ev0luti0n 0f 0ur game  
>  TA: but aa  
>  AA: n0 s0llux  
>  TA: but  
>  AA: s0llux  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: fiine  
>  TA: ii wont tear hii2 fuckiing head off hii2 2tupiid fuckiing 2houlder2  
>  TA: THII2 TIIME  
>  TA: but ii make no promii2e2 about the next tiime.  
>  AA: next time  
>  TA: dont pretend he wont do 2omethiing liike thii2 agaiin.  
>  AA: 0kay  
>  AA: thank y0u s0llux  
>  AA: 0u0  
>  TA: that 2tiill look2 2tupiid.  
>  AA: i kn0w  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: ii wii2h you were aliive  
>  TA: ii mii22 you.  
>  AA: i kn0w  
>  AA: im s0rry it had t0 be this way  
>  TA: iit2 not your fault aa.  
>  TA: iit2 her2  
>  TA: and miine  
>  TA: iim 2o 2orry aa.  
>  AA: its n0t y0ur fault either s0llux  
>  AA: y0u need t0 st0p beating y0urself up 0ver things that were always supp0sed t0 happen  
>  TA: you keep 2ayiing that but ii dont feel any le22 guiilty  
>  TA: iim 2tiill 2o fuckiing 2orry aa.  
>  AA: i kn0w  
>  TA: …  
>  AA: …  
>  TA: …  
>  AA: when was the last time y0u slept s0llux  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: good que2tiion.  
>  AA: s0llux  
>  TA: iim not 2ure.  
>  AA: s0llux  
>  TA: aa.  
>  AA: s0llux g0 t0 sleep  
>  TA: but  
>  AA: s0llux  
>  AA: sleep  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: ye2 lu2u2.  
>  AA: g00d

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] disconnected at 3:11 --

> TA: iim 2o fuckiing 2orry aa.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] disconnected at 3:17 --

The chat closes but you can’t bring yourself to move for a long moment. Emotions wash over you in waves, but you’re too tired and worn out to fully experience any of them. You think you might be a little calmer now you’ve talked to Aradia, but at the same time talking to her always leaves you feeling like your bloodpusher’s been turned to stone.

Your eyes flutter tiredly. You shake yourself out of your stupor, refocusing on the screen. You ignore most of the blinking lights indicating old messages for now - they’re hours old and you don’t think you can bring yourself to deal with them.

But one light is blinking wildly - a new message from someone currently online. It’s TZ, and seeing the teal letters reminds you abruptly of your earlier dream. Opening the log shows you it’s not the first time she’s tried to contact you tonight.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 4:13 -- 

> GC: SOLLUX  
>  GC: SOLLUX!!!!!  
>  GC: 4NSW3R M3!  
>  GC: 1 H4V3 TO T4LK TO YOU!!  
>  GC: 1T’S 1MPORT4NT!  
>  GC: UGH  
>  GC: WH3R3 4R3 YOU?!  
>  GC: 1 W3NT TO YOUR H1V3 BUT YOU W3R3N’T TH3R3  
>  GC: 4LSO 4R3 YOU R3NOV4T1NG OR SOM3TH1NG? TH3R3’S 4 N3W HOL3 1N YOUR W4LL  
>  GC: 4RGH! F1N3!  
>  GC: YOU’V3 L3FT M3 NO CHO1C3  
>  GC: 1’M GO1NG TO F1ND YOU ON PROSP1T  
>  GC: DON’T G3T 4NGRY WH3N 1 W4K3 YOU UP!  
>  GC: 1T’S YOUR OWN F4ULT 1T’S COM3 TO TH1S

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 8:26 --

The first message is hours old, starting probably only a few minutes after you took off for LOWAAs.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 9:37 --

> GC: SOLLUX!  
>  GC: YOU H4V3 TO B3 4W4K3 BY NOW!  
>  GC: UGH  
>  GC: R34LLY??  
>  GC: F1N3!  
>  GC: 1 GU3SS YOU’RE BUSY R1GHT NOW, SO 1’LL L34V3 YOU 4LON3  
>  GC: BUT YOU B3TT3R M3SS4G3 M3 B4CK 4S SOON 4S YOU G3T TH3S3  
>  GC: 4ND DON’T FUCK1NG M3SS UP!!

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 10:53 --

The messages cut off for a couple hours, until the most recent messages from a few minutes ago. The cadence of the blinking lights tells you she’s been messaging you steadily since you logged in. You take a deep breath in preparation and scroll down to engage.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 2:46 --

> GC: SOLLUX  
>  GC: SOLLUX!  
>  GC: SOLLUX!!!  
>  GC: 1 KNOW YOU’R3 ONL1N3!  
>  GC: THOUGH YOU W3R3 4LSO ONL1N3 B3FOR3, S1NC3 YOU L3FT YOUR 4CCOUNT 4CT1V3 WH3N YOU L3FT YOUR H1V3  
>  GC: L1K3 4N 1D1OT  
>  GC: BUT TH1S T1M3 1 C4N SM3LL YOUR 3NT1C1NG 4PPL3B3RRY SC3NT ON TH3 OTH3R S1D3 OF TH3 K3YBO4RD NOW  
>  GC: SO 4NSW3R M3!!!!  
>  GC: STOP 1GNOR1NG M3 YOU DOUCH3  
>  TA: gee2 tz calm your fuckiing tiit2  
>  TA: iim riight here there2 no need for all the 2pam  
>  GC: MY T1TS AR3 L1V1D SOLLUX! TH3Y C4NNOT B3 C4LM3D SO 34S1LY!  
>  GC: TH3Y H4V3 TO KNOW 1F YOU’V3 M3SS3D 3V3RY TH1NG UP!  
>  GC: HMMMMMM, SOLLUX? H4V3 YOU M3SS3D 3V3RYTH1NG UP 4ND DOOM3D US 4LL?  
>  GC: D1D YOU??  
>  TA: giive a troll a fuckiing 2econd two an2wer tz geez!  
>  GC: 1 H4V3 B33N W41T1NG HOURS FOR TH1S SOLLUX!  
>  GC: 3XCUS3 M3 FOR B3ING 4 L1TTL3 34G3R TO KNOW 1F W3’R3 4LL 4BOUT TO D13!  
>  GC: W3LL SOLLUX????  
>  GC: D1D YOU M3SS 1T UP??  
>  TA: gee2e2 fuck tz  
>  TA: ii dont thiink 2o  
>  GC: OH W3LL TH4T’S SUCH 4 R3L13F!  
>  GC: YOU DON’T *TH1NK* SO!!  
>  TA: hey fuck you!  
>  TA: you diidnt really giive me any fuckiing clue2 about what the fuck iim 2uppo2ed two be doiing here!!  
>  TA: 2o ii have no iidea whether or not ii fucked iit up!  
>  GC: 4ND WH4T 1S *1T* EX4CTLY??  
>  GC: WH4T W4S TH3 1MPORT4NT TH1NG YOU 3ND3D UP DO1NG??  
>  TA: uh  
>  TA: ii dont thiink ii 2hould tell you about iit tz  
>  TA: at lea2t not yet  
>  GC: OH? WHY NOT?  
>  TA: ...  
>  TA: iit2 compliicated  
>  TA: and iim not really 2ure what iim doiing my2elf.  
>  TA: al2o ii havent 2lept iin ii dont know how long and there2 a pretty 2olid chance that all of thii2 ha2 been 2ome kiind of terriifyiing luciid daymare  
>  TA: hone2tly iim kiind of hopiing iit ii2.  
>  GC: 1T’S NOT!  
>  TA: well fuck  
>  TA: that 2uck2.  
>  GC: 1F YOU DON’T W4NT TO T3LL M3 4BOUT 1T 1 WON’T M4K3 YOU SOLLUX  
>  GC: BUT 1 4M GO1NG TO F1ND OUT 4BOUT 1T 3V3NTU4LLY, WH3TH3R YOU W4NT M3 TO OR NOT.  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: ii know tz.  
>  TA: and ii want two tell you about iit ii do  
>  TA: ii ju2t  
>  TA: need two thiink about iit fiir2t.  
>  GC: TH4T B4D, HUH?  
>  TA: ye2.  
>  TA: no.  
>  TA: maybe??  
>  GC: H4H4H4H4H4H4!!!  
>  TA: ye2 thank you for laughiing at my paiin tz that make2 all thii2 2o much better.  
>  GC: 1T DO3S FOR M3!  
>  TA: that2 great ii am 2o fuckiing happy for you tz.  
>  GC: GOOD! YOU SHOULD B3!  
>  TA: ugh  
>  GC: NOW! 1 C4N T4ST3 YOUR 3XH4UST1ON THROUGH TH3 SCR33N  
>  GC: 1T T4ST3S L1KE ROTT3N OL1V3S 4ND D1SM4Y  
>  TA: what  
>  GC: SO GO TO SL33P B3FOR3 YOU F4LL UNCONSC1OUS 4T YOUR K3YBO4RD  
>  GC: 4G41N  
>  GC: 4ND G3T B4CK TO T4ST1NG L1K3 YOUR USU4L D3L1C1OUS L3MON 4ND S3LF-FL4G3LL4T1ON SC3NT  
>  TA: what ii2 goiing on  
>  GC: 1 W1LL CH3CK ON YOU 4G41N TOMORROW!  
>  TA: what ii2 even happeniing riight now  
>  GC: 4ND R3M3MB3R  
>  TA: what  
>  GC: DON’T FUCK TH1S UP SOLLUX!!!  
>  GC: BY3!

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] disconnected at 4:13 -- 

> TA: you are 2o weiird tz.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] disconnected at 4:17 --

  
Terezi’s abrupt departure leaves you staring at the screen in bemusement as you try to figure out what just happened. You end up zoning out while staring at the spinning loading symbol and realize she’s right. Time for you to go the fuck to sleep - your brain and your eyes and pretty much your everything is about to mutiny if you don’t let them rest. You entertain the idea of falling asleep in the desk chair (which is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever sat on in your entire fucking life oh my gog) but you know from past experience sleeping without soper will only end in disaster.

With a momentous groan, you shove away from the desk and force yourself to your feet. The floor sways unsteadily as your vision grays out and you think that might be it for you today. A second later your head clears enough you’re able to stagger over to the recuperacoon. You collapse against the side of the machine and stop for a second to catch your breath and then laboriously drag yourself over the edge. You fall head first into the slime and are asleep before you’re even completely submerged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG someone please kill me before I write another fucking chat log they are the worst omg
> 
> So I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I don't have much to say here at the end this time, sorry!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _ **== > Eridan: get some sleep**_


	9. ==> Sollux: be the fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which perspectives change and we get a glimpse of the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love how I say I might have to take a break for the next few weeks and then get the next chapter out early. It really shows off how excellent my time management skills are (they are not, don't be fooled, I am a _mess_ )
> 
> Anyway, time for another installment of 'how can we make no progress in way too many words??' I hope you enjoy this new perspective!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: my attempts at funny jokes(TM), self-deprecation of both characters and authors, OC's, chick-flick moments, a few swears but honestly not as much as Sollux (i was very surprised)
> 
> ALSO: you might have noticed, but I made this into a series and added another work with brief descriptions of the OC's so people can see what they sort of look like and keep track of them a little better. Please check it out!

**== > Sollux: be the fish**

Glub??

 **== > Axolotl: that’s not even a fish, man, come ** **_on_ **

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

*bubbles aggressively*

 **== > Goby: okay, that is ** **_a_ ** **fish, yes, but that’s not - just try again**

**WELL. WELL. WELL.**

_Shit._

**SHELLO,** **_GUPPY._ **

_Fuck shit fuck shit shit shit shit -_

**WATER YOU UP TO?**

**== > ??????: nope nope nope TRY AGAIN!**

Try what again?

_Oh sweet merciful jesus thank fucking god. She’s gone._

Hmmm? Who’s gone?

_Wait, fuck, we aren’t supposed to be here yet!_

Excuse me! There’s reely no need for that kinda glubbing language, fishter!

**== > ??????: there’s no time for this - try a different fish, dumbass**

Heeeey, how you doin’?

**== > ??????: ew, no**

Rude!

**== > ??????: how are you so bad at this, try again**

You are now ERIDAN AMPORA. You are finally the correct ‘fish’, and it only took you, what? Four tries? Great job genius.

Hey! You're just terrible at saying what you mean!

Whatever, let's just get on with the narrative, okay?

… Fine.

You are ERIDAN AMPORA; seadweller, breeder, Orphaner.

What do you do?

**== > Eridan: get some sleep?**

There’s nothing you’d like more, actually, but doing so right now is out of the question.

Your entire being _aches_ , deeply and completely, like you’ve been run over by a cargo ship that backed up to hit you again. And didn’t stop. Your eyelids won’t stop sliding closed against your will. Even when you do manage to force them open, everything is blurry, a haze covering your vision that you can’t rub away. Your leg burns where it got nicked in your last strife and every movement causes your bruises to pulse with pain. Your midsection throbs with the familiar pain of laying and won’t stop cramping. It’s both too hot and too cold, your temperature fluctuating rapidly between a comfortable chill and a sweltering heat, and you can’t stop panting as your fins flutter rapidly and your hide keeping breaking out in honkbeast bumps. There’s a clamoring in your head that makes it hard to think straight and every labored breath you take makes you shake in agony.

You want to fall asleep so badly you think you might cry.

But you _can’t._

Unconsciousness might help your body but it won’t help your mind. Sleeping doesn’t bring you comfort - it never has. Your dreams are filled with pain and regret, with guilt, and shame and _agony_ \- and living through them is worse than anything staying awake can do to you. Even soper never seems to help much, but the prospect of sleeping without it, while you’re so mentally weak, frightens you more than you’re willing to admit to _anyone_ ~~even Fef~~ ( _It has just been so hard looking after you and keeping you out of trouble!_ ) You’ll do _anything_ to put sleep - and the dreams - off for even just a little longer.

So you force yourself to stay awake. Even if you’re barely on this side of consciousness, you stay awake. Even if you can’t really tell up from down anymore, you stay awake. Even if you have to jerk painfully to stop from falling under, you _stay_ awake. Even if your head is muzzy and you can’t think straight, you stay _awake._ Even if it feels like you’re drowning, unable to breathe, you _stay awake_. _You stay_ ** _awake._ **

Because when you close your eyes, you see _them._

And you can’t deal with that. Not now.

So you struggle against every instinct in your body and you _don’t._

Instead, boneless and bleary, you hang suspended in the cool waters of your nest. Thinking is a struggle you’re not up to, most of your concentration stuck on your eggs. They glitter at the bottom of your saltwater pool, swaddled in the softest scraps you could find on short notice. Your breath catches like it does every single time you see them, and you have to remind your gills to keep moving. They’re all miracles, _real_ ones, and you’re always overcome with awe that _you_ are the one who was chosen for this. It’s more than you deserve, you know, but you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

You’ll be stuck here, hovering and watching and waiting while they grow, but you don’t mind, not really (you never have). Instincts won’t let you leave, not yet, but it’s not like you have the energy to be useful anywhere else. Besides, you _want_ to be here. Nothing needs your attention more than these precious jewels of life lying in your pool, anyway.

(there are things you should do, that you have to do, people who need you and plans that rely on you but you’re not so stupid as to think you're irreplaceable - there’s nothing you do that couldn’t be accomplished just as easy (easier, even) by someone else - )

Still; there’s an itch under your hide, a sensation of wrongness you can’t scratch away, a crawling in your veins that screams at you. The Routine has been interrupted, and that can’t be allowed. You shouldn’t just be lying here, wasting time - it’s not right. You should be contacting the Overseether to alert them to the successful completion of the brood. You should be setting up the next Visit, preparing the Hive and getting everyone situated. You should be pulling yourself out of this pool and getting the wrigglers hidden away and going over the Rules.

Laying here, isolated and purposeless, sends shivers through your insides as icy claws rake over your nerves. You can’t stop twitching, restless and anxious and ruined, as you try to reconcile Routine with reality. This isn’t _right_. It’s all wrong. You’re being useless and disruptive and _bad._ You know what you’re supposed to do, what you have to do, and not doing it as you should will only end in disaster.

But the Overseether doesn’t _exist_ anymore, there is no longer anyone left to make Visits, and you have no idea how to feel about any of it.

A wave of heaviness rolls over you. Your eyelids flutter rapidly, falling closed for a touch too long. Sleep creeps in along the edges of your mind and

_a tall form and flashes of - blue - violet - teal - purple -_

_the Wall bigger than it should be brighter darker looming_

_one two three this is how things have to be_

_puddles of gray left right left right_

_a flash of light purple yellow blue indigo indigo_ violet

_four five six there is nothing you can fix_

_pain pain pain agony wetwetwet why is it wet it shouldn't be_  wet _cod no_

_silver and green and cyan too many eyes and not enough mouths_

_please no dont dontdontdont_

_seven eight nine stop your fucking whine_

You jerk violently back into consciousness. Water splashes around you as you cough, unable to tell whether you’re on land or underwater for and second and not sure how to breathe. You shake yourself back to wakefulness and open your eyes wide until tears are stinging at the corners and the blackness fades from the edges. You’re not ready to face the things that wait for you in sleep, no matter how exhausted you are. You push away the lingering traces of the almost dream and look around desperately for a distraction.

The brooding block is dark and hollow, but the glow of your bioluminescence casts enough light to illuminate the pool, and underwater your vision is sharp and clear in a way it never is on land. Your ear fins flicker back and forth, straining for even the slightest hint of sound, but everything is still and quiet. It should be peaceful, but it’s the opposite - jarring,  dissonant and unnatural. You’ve become used to the background noise of tiny feet and loud voices, of laughter and yelling, and quiet has become a foreboding omen. You haven’t associated quiet with peace in sweeps. Not since Bai came into your life, at least.

Bairai. She’s the one who changed _everything._ With her trusting eyes, cheerful laugh and grabbing hands - you couldn’t bring yourself to cull her, not like you know you were supposed to. You knew better, of course, than to do what you did. You were raised right, knew your duty. Knew the law and the tradition and what you were supposed to do - but you weren’t ready. It was a mistake, it shouldn’t have happened like _that._ You didn’t mean to - you didn’t _know._ The lusus wasn’t supposed to _have_ a wiggler. And she wasn’t - she wasn’t supposed to be _tiny_ and _friendly_ and - and _covered_ in the blood of her would be lusus. You tried. But. But you _couldn’t._ And you know it makes you weak and useless and an utter disgrace - but you just _couldn’t do it._ The night you met her was the beginning of the end for you, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it, despite everything you’ve had to do because of it. Even if -

A dull thud brings you out of your reminiscing. Fins flared, you pinpoint the sound in the hallway and it only takes a second for you to recognize it’s Faiyet shifting around, foot tapping compulsively against the floor. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it - she never does - and a small smile spreads across your face. Faiyet worries too much, wastes it on you, even, and though you wish she’d stop, knowing she cares sends warm feelings fizzing through you.

The movement behind the door stills to a murmur again, and you turn your attention back down to your eggs. There’s five - not your biggest or your smallest brood, but all of them are beautiful and make your breath catch in your throat. Looking at them helps calm you slightly, settling your breath and slowing your pulse. If there’s one thing you haven’t managed to mess up yet, it’s only _this._

Lazily, you reach down and run a finger along the shell of the smaller teal. There’s no response, of course - it’s much too early for that - but that’s not why you do it. Touching them sends warm thrills through you, makes your insides flutter deliciously, and the physical contact reassures you in a way nothing else does. You have to be careful though - it’s an extremely delicate time for their development. The gel membrane is easy to perforate, the jelly still too liquidy to protect the grubs inside, and a lot of things could still go wrong. They’re still semi-squishy at this stage, not yet hardened by exposure to air like they will be in a couple of days.

But _this_ is one of your favorite times, despite the ever-present danger and the nervous energy that fills you to the brim. When they’re like this, you can protect them, you can keep them safe and content and happy, and you can pretend that nothing bad will ever happen while you’re here to watch over them. It’s all a delusion, of course - a rush of hormones and instincts you’re too dumb to understand, and you know better than to believe it.

Still, though, you can’t bring yourself to fight against the illusion of comfort - of safety and control and _warmth._ You _hate_ yourself for your weakness, but you’re not strong enough to give it up, either. Watching over your eggs is the only time you can actually relax. If you look at them closely, you can see through the cloudy protective liquid inside the soft shells. If you’re patient, you can catch fleeting glimpses of the grubs inside. If you’re still and silent and attentive, you can even delude yourself into thinking everything is okay. That things will be _fine._ Here and now, in this place, you feel like things might actually work out.

And being able to see the small movements inside the shells goes a good way to settling your worries.

None of them are still, this time, and none of them will _go still_ , either.

You _swear_ it.

Floating in the water, thoughts drifting sporadically, time passes beyond your awareness. You slip in and out of an almost sleep, still unwilling to fall completely to the mercy of your sub-conscious but unable to stay fully aware. In the dark and silence, you can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours or even days since you entered the block. Time has been distant for a while now and you can’t quite remember how it’s supposed to work anymore. The ache in your insides and the heaviness of your limbs tells you it hasn’t been long, but it’s hard to think through the cotton in your brain. Thoughts float by you distantly, and you only manage to catch a few as they go by.

Your eggs look like stars. Kyv - someone needs to check on her. You miss clouds and rice and the green flowers Efi grows. The teal is too small - you can’t let anyone see. Is everyone okay? Is Fai still there or did she leave like you told her? You want something sweet. Will these ones be okay after everything that happened? Did you ruin them again? You always do. You might be hungry, you think. Does Fef miss you? You miss her so much. Your leg aches, but you’ve had worse. Who’s going to feed the grubs if you’re out of commission? Is someone keeping track of Lab and Dar? They get into trouble on their own. Everyone’s okay, right? Where are your glasses? Are Cor and Mak being careful? The last book you read was interesting but dull - you need to find a new one. The water’s too warm. What are you going to do? Are the little ones behaving? Xol needs to be encouraged to eat, you don’t remember the last time you saw her do so. It smells like someone melted cotton candy. Is Ris talking to anyone or isolating herself again? Fai said everyone’s okay, thank cod. Is Captor still here?

Your mind stills and grasps at that thought, latching onto it and delving further.

Sollux Captor.

You know you should feel… something, in the wake of him, but it’s hard to concentrate enough to identify what that should be. There’s the shock, of course, that he didn’t already _know_ \- everything you’ve been taught has told you that hiding what you are is _wrong,_ and impossible besides. Your status is as clear as the fins on your face, and trying to hide it or cover it up is shameful and _wrong._ Not that you would _ever_ try to, of course ~~you know better~~ you’re proud of your abilities and your place in the Fleet, you know that what you do is important, even if sometimes it’s -

\- anyway.

Just because Captor didn’t know about you doesn’t mean _anything._ Captor isn’t exactly the smartest cephalopod in the sea, and him skimping on his schoolfeeds isn’t surprising, not really. You’re not sure why you expected him to know, even - he’d never said anything about it before (though neither had anyone besides Kan - but you know that most of them know - they wouldn’t treat you the way they do if they didn’t know right?). It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t matter.

More concerning is that someone _knows._ Someone knows about _them_ , about what you’ve done, about the secret you’ve given everything to keep - and it doesn’t even matter. Your world has ended and everyone is dead and it doesn’t glubbing _matter_ \- but you’ve spent so long keeping it a secret and you can’t stop the anxiety. You’ve spent _sweeps_ hiding this, knowing that any slip-up or error would lead to the deaths of everyone.

Thinking about it _hurts_ , in a way you can’t describe. After sweeps of paranoia, of doing anything and everything it took to keep them _safe_ \- of fighting and killing and lying and  _you can no longer pose the danger to our people that you had always planned to -_

Reconciling with the idea you just _let_ someone into the hive, for any reason, is beyond you. You’re too tired and lost and hopeless and _empty._ You _can’t._

So you don’t.

Instead, you sink further into the water, settling down to rest on the rock ledge next to your eggs. You’re still overcome with awe that you can keep them this time, _all of them_ , not just the ones that pass Inspection but all five of these wondrous little lives. You can’t wait to meet them, to hold them close and watch them grow and hear them laugh. The thought brings a smile to your lips that makes your muscles ache, your face unaccustomed to the expression. You extend an arm around the bundle and pull them closer to you, gently, gently -

(- you make sure the tiny teal is tucked out of sight in the folds of the fabric, where no one can see it, where it’s safe, where no one can judge or decide or -)

\- and curl up, holding the tiny fragile things close to your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, letting the slow thump of it reverberate through your clutch.

Time passes again as you zone in and out, never quite falling into the land of slumber as you let your mind drift, beyond even your previous state of lucid dreaming. Thoughts fade, incomprehensible, and for the first time in a very, very long time, you think you might be… peaceful. It’s not that your worries are non-existent, because they’re not. But they feel… distant. Not less important, but less urgent.

And then pain throbs up your leg, a wave of nausea following, and you’re brought abruptly back to the present. You cringe, clenching your teeth and snarling as the discomfort runs through you. The surge of agony is quick, but it’s enough to jar you out of your drifting and you slump to the ground and stare up through the water, unable to return to your peaceful state.

You lay like that for a long time, thoughts running in circles as you try to contemplate your situation. There are no revelations, no realizations or resolutions, beneficial or otherwise. There’s just an endless stream of half-formed sentences; words and emotions jumbled and useless, and the threat of sleep hanging over your head.

After a while you feel a ripple in the water, a sound traveling from above, distorted before it reaches your ears. The vibrations travel through the water easily, and the spines on your fins flicker delicately to pick them up and translate them into something that _feels_ like words.

_‘Eri?’_

You recognize the rhythm of the voice, and the emotions in it are even clearer underwater - desperate, scared, needy - and you know you have to respond.

Leaving your eggs, even to surface, is difficult.

You do it anyway.

It takes a moment for you to adjust your breathing when you break the surface, but you’re used to the transition and suppress your wince easily. There’s no one in sight, for which you’re glad. You need a moment to adjust to the disorienting transition and you’re not sure you’d be able to resist lashing out at any unexpected intruders. You have experience with pushing back your instincts, with biting down on your urges and needs (they would have culled you if you didn’t - culled not just you, but _everyone_ -) but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

“Eri?” Faiyet’s voice is subdued, thin as a reed and uncharacteristically meek as she calls to you through the wrecked door. It’s been propped back in place, but you can still see the hole where Captor crashed his way in the first time. You twitch a little, your hackles rising instinctively at the scent of _not quadrant_ , _not kin_ \- but you force yourself calm. Captor’s long gone, his fading scent of no consequence, and Faiyet _is_ kin, no matter what your primal instincts try to say. You hum in acknowledgment, encouraging her to continue.

A pause; a shadow moves across the hole. Silence hangs heavily in the air, cloying and thick. Finally, “What… whathappens now?” She tries to hide it by speaking louder, but you’ve known her far too long to miss the quaver in her voice. Faiyet’s trying _so hard_ to keep strong, to forge forward as she always does, but you know her too well to be fooled. It breaks your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system and closes up your throat with an emotion you refuse to name.

 _Fai._ Sweet, loyal, brilliant Faiyet. You clench your fists, hard, and swallow until the feeling’s gone. Too much relies on you to let yourself get swept away by sentimentality. You have to focus on the here and now, with everyone who matters, because it’s your fault they’re in this situation in the first place. You’re being selfish, lounging in this pool, slacking from your responsibilities and hiding from the trolls whose lives you’ve irreparably ruined. You need to pull yourself together, get the fuck out of your own head, and get to doing what needs to be done.

A flash of pain and you’re jerked from your inward spiral and looking down there’s violet welling up around your claws, embedded as they are in the flesh of your palms. It barely hurts, and a distant part of your brain tells you that’s not good but you ignore it. It takes an unexpected effort to force yourself to relax, but you manage, flexing your hands and focusing on the dull ache it causes to clear your mind. Faiyet is quiet, not even a breath of sound as she waits. You can practically smell her anxiety, her hope - an acrid, tangy scent. Like overripe apples and seaweed left to dry in the radioactive sun.

“Oh, _Fai,_ ” you sigh. Shifting yourself through the water and closer to the door hurts like fire to the gills, but you ignore it and push on. You’ve suffered worse and you won’t let this pain distract you. The edge of the pool stops less than a yard from the door, and you go right up to the edge, straining forward to place your hand against the broken wood. “Wwe’re gonna take care a each other,” you promise her, forcing a smile onto your face as you talk (you hope it’ll come through in your voice), “just like alwways.”

It’s not a lie - not exactly - which is all that matters. Just because your situation is a little (a _lot_ ) different now it doesn’t mean that everything has changed. All of your plans and ambitions and hard work might be useless now - it’s enough to make you _scream_ (you tried _so hard_ , went against ~~everything they ever told you~~  every instinct you ever had, put so much blood and sweat and tears into keeping them safe, into getting them even the slightest _chance_ ) _-_ but it doesn’t matter. You can’t scream, or cry, or curl up into a ball and hide, no matter how much you want to.

Because this is _your_ fault, and you have to fix it. You _have_ to.

“Eri -” Faiyet sniffles, voice breaking before she can finish, “canwe - isit, _but -_ ” It cuts you to the core to hear her so desperate and broken. Faiyet hates crying, thinks it’s stupid and wasteful and worse than useless; hates it even more when she’s the one doing it. She hasn’t cried since she was three sweeps old, not even during -

\- not even _then_ , when you all broke, and hearing it now makes your insides squirm.

“Fai,” you croon, as gently as you can, “Fai, swweet, c’mere.”

She’s throwing the door aside and diving through before you even finish her name. You barely have time to brace yourself before she’s falling into your arms and you can’t hide your wince when she collides heavily against your chest, a mess of watery green and shaking. She’s too upset to notice and you force the pain from your mind, concentrating on more important matters like the wriggler collapsed against you.

Your instincts scream at you for letting another troll so close to your brood and your hide crawls at the rough contact. You tell those feelings to fuck off and wrap the distraught troll up in your arms, providing as much comfort as you can. She burrows into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and holding on so tight you’d have trouble breathing if not for your gills. Faiyet shudders with a suppressed sob and curls into you, tucking her head into your shoulder and pressing her horns solidly against your thorax. You hum, a rumble starting in your chest, and she hiccups.

(another troll might see the two of you as indecently pale, especially since you both ( _I can't look after you anymore_ ) - since _she_ has a moirail, but you know better. Your relationship isn’t like that at all. It’s different in a way you can’t explain, neither conciliatory nor concupiscent - something that doesn’t fit into the quadrants at all)

“Shhhh,” you sooth, running a hand up and down her spine nubs, “shhhhhhhh, noww.” She lets out a tiny gasp at your touch and curls impossibly closer. You purr gently, barely a rumble throughout your thorax, and she sighs, a long low sound that catches on the edge of her sobs.

It’s a long time before either of you moves. If your shirt gets soaked in green and a few violet drops streak down your own face, neither of you mention it.

Finally, Faiyet’s shaking lessens and her breathing steadies again. You keep up your careful stroking and leave your eyes locked on the ceiling when you speak.

“It’s okay,” you tell her, tone as honest and optimistic as you can make it, “wwe’re okay, an’ wwe’re all gonna stay that wway.” She sniffles and clears her throat, tilting her head up to give you a piercing look. You push all your uncertainty and fears deep down and meet her eyes, bringing all the hope you can muster to the surface. You can’t let her see your weakness - it’s not her problem and there are so many other things that need to happen, that you need her to be strong for. Making her worry about you won’t help anyone. You’re _fine._

It must work - after a second of searching Faiyet gives a small nod and draws back from you with a rough cough, already embarrassed by her perceived weakness. She’s always like this, humiliated and ashamed whenever she lets her emotions out, and you hate seeing her put up her shields back up, but you know better than to try and talk about it. She weaves a hand between her horns to swipe at her face and when she turns to you again her eyes are bruised yellow-green but dry and her mouth is a firm line. Faiyet’s done crying, ready to move on and forget about the incident as she always does, and any further comment on the matter will either be ignored or rebuffed.

She coughs again, pulling away to sit on the edge of the pool. Reluctantly, you release her, already missing the comfort of knowing what to do and how to help that you had when she was in your arms. You cross them uncomfortably over your own chest, a sort of half hug, but it’s not the same. “Sowhatnow?” Faiyet asks, and her voice still wavers, still hitches, but there’s a note of hope in it now, of determination, and that gives _you_ hope.

You pull back slightly, looking away as you think. That’s the million caegar question, isn’t it? What happens now? Where do you go from here? What is there to work towards now? It was all so easy when your lives were already planned out for you and you only had to figure out how to get everyone there, but all that certainty is gone now and you’re lost. It’s hard - _so_ hard - and you don’t know what to _do._

Faiyet waits patiently as you struggle for an answer, but your mind gives you nothing and finally you just have to start talking. “Wwe gotta stick together,” you tell her, and she nods enthusiastically like you’ve said something worth listening to. “Fin’s actually ain’t much different from wwhat they wwere before, reely - there’s just a different opponent this time.” You have to pause to catch your breath, unexpectedly exhausted, and you try to be subtle about it. “Wwe gotta figure out more about wwhat’s goin’ on before wwe make anymore big plans.” You don’t think Faiyet notices your sudden reticence and force yourself to continue. “Most important is makin’ sure none a the enemy can get at us.”

Faiyet scowls suddenly and you stop, surprised at the uncommon expression. She’s not usually one to show such honest emotion so easily. She turns away from you slightly and crosses her arms as she studiously avoids meeting your eyes.

“Fai?” Her unusual behavior sends a thrill of fear through you and you do your best to tamp it down. There’s no need to panic. “Wwhat is it?” You lean forward, ignoring the twinge of pain in your center, and reach out to put a hand on her arm.

She holds out a moment longer, eyes darting around and shoulders hunching defensively. Her eyes lock on yours and she caves within a second. “Doeshe _have_ tobehere?” she whines, words more rushed than usual.

You blink. “Wwho?” you ask, lost. Your brow furrows for a second, but the expression sends a shot of pain through your head and you drop it.

Faiyet looks away again, clearly uncomfortable. In the silence, the faint movements of the water and the echoes of your breathing sounds abnormally loud. You wait it out, patient as you’ve learned to be in dealing with wrigglers, and finally she spits, “SolluxCaptor.”

An automatic frown crosses your face at his name and you smother it before she can see. “Ah,” you sigh, carefully neutral. “He does,” you confirm, “wwe need him right noww.” You don’t like it, either, but there isn’t anything to be done about it. You have to take advantage of all the resources available, no matter how distasteful they might be. You _need_ a Player - no one else can fight the enemy, not effectively. “Wwe can’t do this on our owwn.”

Faiyet makes a face, displeased, and you wonder what the asshole did to earn _Faiyet’s_ ire so quickly. She’s easy going and more mellow than most trolls and he’s barely even been here a night (you think). “Butdoes itgotta be _him?_ ” she almost begs.

You look at her for a moment, trying to figure out where all this is coming from. Faiyet still refuses to look at you, and you lean forward, worry stirring in your gut. “...wwhat happened?” Your voice comes out more pleading than you want it to. Did he -

She jerks to face you again, surprised at the question. Your worry spikes dramatically before she snorts and shakes her head. “Nothing,” she assures you, “hedidn’t _do_ anything.” She rolls her eyes, “he’sjust _sooo_ annoying!”

Ah. A smile quirks your lips and you allow it to stretch into a grin. “Yes,” you agree. Faiyet hits you with baby barkbeast eyes, which, while incredibly adorable, no longer work on you. Captor _is_ certainly one of the most annoying trolls you’ve ever had contact with, but he’s mostly harmless. (You think.) His psionics are powerful, more powerful than most other psychic abilities you’ve seen or even read about (it’s why you contacted _him_ ) but from what you know he’s too lazy to use them. And you’ve never seen him get aggressive with anyone besides you, not even Vriska, so you don’t think he’d go after your wrigglers. “ _But_ , he’s the only one wwho can protect such a large area on his owwn,” you add and Faiyet deflates, knowing better than to argue. “So try not to scare him off, okay?”

Faiyet smirks at your playful warning, but it’s a fleeting expression and gone before you can appreciate it. “Buthe’s so _old_ ,” Faiyet complains weakly. She’s hunched into herself and can’t bring herself to meet your eyes and her claws are digging into her hide where she’s clutching at her arms. You recognize the signs and you know it’s not his age she’s worried about.

“Faiyet Auriga, Child of the Charioteer.” She looks up, eyes wide at the use of her full name and sign. You meet her gaze steadily. “Listen here and listen wwell - Sollux Captor may be a massive jerk an’ a complete glubbin' asshole,” you acknowledge, “but he is not _them._ He’ll protect you,” you promise her, and you hope to cod you’re not lying, “an’ if he does anyfin he shouldn’t I’ll cull him myself.”

She stares at you, biting her lip and visibly conflicted. “Butwhataboutyou?” she finally blurts out, louder than necessary. She winces at her outburst but doesn’t take it back.

“Wwhat atrout- _about_.” ( _I think it is not really necessary for me to be your moirail anymore_ ) You trip over the pun and have to close your eyes before you can continue. When you open them again Faiyet’s looking at you, eyes sad and full of pity, and you hate yourself for putting that expression on her face. None of them should have to deal with your messes. “Wwhat about me?”

The look on her face doesn’t fade and you resist the urge to pull back and hide from her eyes. You stare at each other for a long moment, neither backing down. Then Faiyet lets out a shaky breath and turns away. “...nevermind,” she mutters, dismissive. But her face is determined in a way you know as her most stubborn. Fan-glubbing-tastic.

“Wwhat is it?” you repeat. You don’t actually expect her to answer, not when she gets like this, but you have to ask.

“It’snothing,” Faiyet assures you, “don’tworry aboutit.” She’s a bad liar, though - looking everywhere but at you and unable to stop fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt. She always has been, and you don’t know why she still tries. You often let her get away with it because as bad as she is at lying she’s equally as stubborn, and you don’t have the energy to pry the truth out of her right now. Besides, it’s probably not _that_ important.

So instead of calling her out, you snort and roll your eyes, ignoring the way the motion makes your head fuzzy and the world around you spin dangerously. “It’s my job to wworry,” you remind her, and she groans laboriously at the oft-repeated phrase.

“Ugggh!” Faiyet grumbles, “you’resoo _irritating_ , sometimes!” But her shoulders have relaxed slightly, and there’s a smile playing at her lips again under the scowl.

“Also my job,” you assure her, and she throws her hands up and leans away theatrically.

You smile graciously and ruffle at her short hair, ignoring her protests. Faiyet squirms and squawks and batts your hand away, pouting, but you know she’s not as upset as she’s pretending to be. A second later she proves you right by slipping her arms around you again. You ignore the bursts of pain when she knocks against a few bruises and cuddle back. She settles, content, and in looking at her you’re struck again by the reality of your new situation.

It’s weird, knowing that someone _knows_ about them, now. An uneasy, rotting feeling has settled in your feed digestion sac and thinking about it makes you want to cry. Even reminding yourself it’s just Captor, that there isn’t even anyone for him to tell anymore doesn’t help. You’ve given everything you’ve ever had to keep this one secret, even pushed away and lost your palest for it ( _It has taken its toll, and honestly I am really exhausted!_ ), and it’s impossible for you to comprehend that you might not need to keep it anymore.

Looking at Faiyet, almost peaceful and oh so trusting, helps to remind you of what it is that actually matters. It’s not you, or your feelings, or your wasted work.

It’s _them_ \- all these little trolls, abandoned and lost and ripped from their natural course - they’re what matters, what’s _always_ mattered. And you’ll do anything and everything it takes to keep them safe.

Shifting slowly, awkwardly, an inch at a time, you lay back in the pool. Faiyet follows you with a quiet sigh, resting mostly on the edge of the floor. She nuzzles in against you, clutching an arm to her chest. You press your face to her hair and breath in, comforted by the familiar smell of hive.

This is all you need, really, and more than you deserve. But you’re selfish ( _Will you just clam up for once in your life? Always carping and carping and carping! You go completely overboard with your emotions, always looking to reel in drama wherever you can. I am up to my gills in it! I just cannot salmon the strength anemonemore!_ ) so you’ll hold onto it for as long as you can.

Here, now, with the feel of Faiyet’s bloodpusher thumping steadily against your chest, you’re finally able to relax enough to start to drift off. Your thoughts scatter, your mind clears, and for once, you think you might feel optimistic about your chances for a future.

You _hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My absolute favorite line I have ever written is "*bubbles aggressively*"
> 
> I will never be able to top that.
> 
> Anyway, next chapter will be back to the regularly scheduled dual-obsessed asshole, but I do hope to have more alternating character perspectives in the future!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _You wake up disoriented and confused, with no idea why the soper around you is clear instead of red or blue or why your left foot is sticking out over the edge. For that matter, why are you upside down in your recuperacoon?_


	10. ==> Eridan: be the first guy again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sollux wakes up, takes a shower, loses his temper, yells at several people, and manages to do all that in a 25 square foot radius. Also, an excessively gross amount of memos/chats somehow manage to take place despite everyone's best efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter*
> 
> S-so been a little while, huh???
> 
> I apologize for the long wait for this, and for anyone who's decided to stick around I am forever grateful. I have a few explanations for the delay but no real excuses, so I won't bore you with the details besides saying real life is a bitch and money is necessary to live in it. 
> 
> I'll try to take less time with the next chapter, but I will say that if there is anyone who might be interested in betaing this, I would be super fucking thankful and that it might help things move a bit faster. Editing these myself takes up about 75% of the time making them, and even just another set of eyes would help reduce that time significantly. 
> 
> Thank you, to everyone who's read this and left comments and kudos - you guys are a major reason why this chapter finally made it out!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: language, self-esteem issues, excessive wordiness, brief/temporary rage blackouts, lame attempts at something resembling plot, mentions of death and resurrection

**== > Eridan: be the first guy again**

You are once again SOLLUX CAPTOR, though fuck knows why you want to be this douchebag.

**== > Sollux: how about you? Will you go to sleep or are you gonna bitch about it too?**

Actually, you’ve been asleep for several units already.

**== > Sollux: then wake up!**

You wake up in the middle of a snore, accidentally inhaling soper slime and spend the next few slivers coughing before you can breathe again.

The distraction sidetracks you enough that it takes you a few moments to realize there’s something wrong. The slime around you is clear and filtered instead of its normally cloudy red/blue, your air sacks don’t ache like usual after a day in your re-re-re-used sopor, and your left foot is _freezing_ \- probably because it’s sticking up in the air outside your ‘coon.

Blinking slowly, you frown. Why the hell are you upside down in your recuperacoon?

Pulling your foot back in, you contort awkwardly until you’re properly vertical. It’s easier than you expected - did you knock down the divider  _again?_ \- and you straighten out of the slime with a hacking groan, still not completely awake. Rubbing at your ocular units clears a bit of the sleep, and you force yourself to take in your surroundings.

You pause.

This is not your respiteblock.

Where the _fuck -_

_Trollian - please - a world ofwhite - ANGELS - strangetrolls - thePrince - RedEyes and a strangedoor - theblock -_

Memories of the previous night hit you like an Imperial scuttlebuggy straight to the sensory organs.

Well  _fuck._

_Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck!_

You sink back into the soper slime and desperately squeeze your eyes closed, trying to will yourself back to sleep with the single-minded determination usually reserved for particularly intense coding sessions.

If you can just force yourself back to sleep, you can pretend none of this is happening. And if none of this is happening, you don’t have to deal with any of it.

Unfortunately, four slivers later you’re still wide awake.

Slitting your eyes open, you glare morosely at the pristine walls of the ‘coon. It lacks the scratches and dents of your own, accumulated over years of maniac fits, endless dayterrors, and banging your horns painfully against the metal. Seeing the unmarred surface of this one makes you irrationally angry. This isn’t _yours._

Gritting your fangs you push yourself out of the disgustingly comfortable slime, muttering your best curses through chattering fangs as you come up into the freezing air.

_Fuck,_ why is it so cold in here?

The time telling device on the wall says 6:44. Which means it’s been over a full cycle since you tore out of your hive like the fucking barkbeasts of gog were on your heels to rescue the second worst troll you know.

Has it really only been one cycle?? Gogmagog, but it feels so much _longer._

“ _Fuck._ ” You squeeze your eyes closed and let your head thunk down on the edge of the ‘coon. “Mrrmph.”

A full days sleep and you  _still_ don’t know what the fuck is going on. You’re exhausted - a bone-deep feeling that has nothing to do with a lack of shut-eye and everything to do with the cataclysmic events of the last perigee. Your thoughts buzz restlessly in your head, barely calmed by your time unconscious, and your hide prickles relentlessly as your mostly recovered psionics buzz across it on a subatomic level. You can’t remember the last time you exhausted your energy so completely ~~it was when you went to see Aradia~~ but the nerves-on-fire sensation that comes with their regeneration isn’t something it’s possible to forget.

You shove your thoughts to the corner of your thinkpan dedicated to things you're determined to ignore. Agonizing over it isn’t gonna do you any good, and you’re sick and tired of the all the useless circling. It takes a sliver to locate your ocular protection device, sunk as it is to the bottom of the ‘coon, and you fish it out impatiently. Jamming the stupid things on your face ends up jabbing the sticky-out-things directly into your eyes.

“Ow fuck shit fuck  _ow!_ ” Eyes squeezed shut, you fall back into the ‘coon until the painful starbursts flooding your vision disappear, spluttering murderously. A few slivers later, you actually manage to place the device back on your face (gently, _gently!_ ) and haul yourself out of the ‘coon to slump down on the floor.

Immediately, your body starts screaming at you.

Released from the numbing effects of high-quality slime, it feels like you’ve gone ten rounds with a behemoth and lost. Right after coming off the worst mind-honey high you’ve ever felt.  _After_ getting into a screaming match with the most annoying Trolls on the deep web.

In short, you feel like literal  _shit_.

Trying to stand causes aches in muscles you didn’t even know you had (and some you’re pretty sure don’t exist) and your brain buzzes in a way eerily similar to your husktop right before it overheats.

For a sliver, you can’t move. Forced to lie as still as possible on the ground, your entire being rebels against even the  _thought_ of movement. The soper slime crusts over your clothes and hide in a disgusting mess with the exposure to air and you swear aggressively at the ceiling once you manage to catch your breath. Even _that_  hurts.

It takes an embarrassingly long time before you recover enough energy to stagger upright. The congealed slime cracks loudly and crumbles off, and you frown, disgusted. Fuck. How are you supposed to get this mess off? Glancing around the block, you spot the half-open door you noticed last day and stumble towards it, hoping to gog it leads to an ablution block.

Opening the door involves a lot more fumbling than you’re willing to admit, but you finally manage it after a few tries. A jaw-cracking yawn forces your eyes closed as you grope your way inside. Bright lights flare on by themselves and you jump back instinctively, suddenly wide awake and on guard (you have to suppress a strangled scream when the movement generates a wave of pain through your body).

The sight of the newly revealed block freezes you in place.

It’s fucking  _magnificent._ All gleaming tiles and shining surfaces, bright and reflective and so obviously  _clean._ The washsquare’s fucking  _ginormous_ \- it takes up an entire corner, made of some kind of smooth stone cut in curving lines. Across the block is the largest soaktub you’ve ever seen, so big it needs a set of steps leading up to it. It could fit four trolls,  _at least._

The floor’s covered in some kind of plush, golden... _thing,_ soft and subtle under your feet. There’s an entire  _wall_ covered in shelves of products and drycloths and things you can’t even identify, and on the opposite wall is another door leading into another space bigger than your entire ablution block. It’s got a load gaper and a prong washer so ornate you can’t even.

You’ve never seen anything so absurdly extravagant in your life. You hadn’t thought such a thing  _possible._

Rubbing your eyes does nothing to make the vision go away, which means you’re probably not hallucinating. Damn it. Even the heat emanating from the stone floor remains.

What even the fuck.

Another once-over of the block and you find motion sensor light grubs recessed into the ceiling and smooth metal fixtures perfectly accented to the decor and you are just  _done._

Shutting off your brain is almost easy for once. Stripping out of your soper laden clothing, you take perverse pleasure in dropping the disgusting things on the pristine floor and step into the enormous washsquare. Turning the knob all the way to the left, you brace yourself for a rush of cold.

The water that comes out is hot as sin. A high-pitched yelp escapes as you rush to adjust it, and after a sliver of fumbling the temperature is perfect. The steady stream hits your aching body with a force just short of painful, and _fuck_ , but it’s glorious.

_Fuck._

Stupid _fucking_ highblood amenities.

Stupid fucking  _highbloods._

Stupid fucking _Eridan._

* * *

\-- frameworkArmor [FA] opened a memo on board LISTEN UP at 5:00 --

> FA: ALRIGHTGRUBS. ITSTIME TOGET YOUR LISTENNUBS ON!  
>  FA: WEVEGOT OUR NEW STOMPINORDERS!
> 
> jargonDelphic [JD] responded to the memo at 5:01.
> 
> JD: uuuuugh  
>  JD: what do you want now
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned jargonDelphic [JD] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: HEY  
>  FA: ISAID LISTENING! Thatmeans notalking!  
>  FA: Irefuse toletthis devolve intoyour usualmess!
> 
> mountedAuxiliary [MA] responded to the memo at 5:03.
> 
> MA: … *youre* a mess...
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned mountedAuxiliary [MA] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: WHAT didI justsay?!
> 
> prolixusMartyr [PM] responded to the memo at 5:04.
> 
> PM: You told us we a7e to 7emain silent until you info7m us othe7wise, my dea7 leade7. 7^_^7
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned prolixiusMartyr [PM] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: afiukdcjnsjdc!!!  
>  FA: Rhetoricalquestion Pers!
> 
> delightfulRumormonger [DR] responded to the memo at 5:05.
> 
> DR: Then Ehy’d ya ask us?  
>  FA: Dani nooooo  
>  DR: Fay??
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned from delightfulRumormonger [DR] responding to the memo. 
> 
> FA: SorryDani! Butwe gottaget thisthingmovin!  
>  FA: Everyone here?  
>  FA: Anddont answerthat!
> 
> [27 of 36 users are watching this memo.]
> 
> FA: Itll have todo Iguess  
>  FA: Just makesure yall tell everyone whati tell you
> 
> koxswainAbomination [KA] responded to the memo at 5:08.
> 
> KA: get! the! fuck! ∆n! with! it!
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned koxswainAbomination [KA] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: Iam!  
>  FA: Just -  
>  FA: givemeasecond  
>  FA: Alright  
>  FA: So!  
>  FA: The good news:  
>  FA: Theeggs arehere nErisfine  
>  FA: Theres5 ntheyall look realgood!
> 
> peaceKeeper [PK] responded to the memo at 5:10.
> 
> PK: Yes!!!!!!!!  
>  PK: Fina‡‡y!!!!!!
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned peaceKeeper [PK] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: Asfor the badnews:  
>  FA: Werenot outta thewilds yet  
>  FA: Asmost mightknow  
>  FA: Thanksta HomeBase we managedta lastout therecentsiege
> 
> requisiteConnection [RC] responded to the memo at 5:12.
> 
> RC: And you’re fucking *welcome* for that, bitche§!!
> 
> FA: LANGUAGE ROM!!!
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned requisiteConnection [RC] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: Butanyway, Eri wentunder waybefore the endof thefighting  
>  FA: … and hadto callinanotherPlayer
> 
> emphaticAupair [EA] responded to the memo at 5:14.
> 
> EA: What
> 
> nonchalantSerpent [NS] responded to the memo at 5:14.
> 
> NS: ???????
> 
> deceptiveComedian [DC] responded to the memo at 5:14.
> 
> DC: ^v^: o. m. c!!  
>  DC: ^v^: this is amazing!
> 
> gatheringBenevolence [GB] responded to the memo at 5:14.
> 
> GB: ^he ∑hat????^
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned emphaticAupair [EA] from responding to the memo.
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned nonchalantSerpent [NS] from responding to the memo.
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned deceptiveComedian [DC] from responding to the memo.
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned gatheringBenevolence [GB] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: ASIWASSAYING  
>  FA: Ericalledin anotherPlayer  
>  FA: TheGemini.
> 
> croakerAbyss [CA] responded to the memo at 5:16.
> 
> CA: :( !!  
>  CA: no him!!!!!
> 
> catalufaAbyss [CA2] responded to the memo at 5:16.
> 
> CA2: he meen!!
> 
> nostradamusEnergetic [NE] responded to the memo at 5:17.
> 
> NE: n* he isn’t! i met him he’s nice!  
>  CA: hemak mom sad!!!
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned croakerAbyss [CA] from responding to the memo.
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned catalufaAbyss [CA2] from responding to the memo.
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned nostradamusEnergetic [NE] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: Theres nopoint inarguin aboutthis! Whatsdone sdone!  
>  FA: Hes stayintil Erisback at 100% andasmuch asIhate to admitit we need thehelp!
> 
> jargonDelphic [JD2] responded to the memo at 5:19.
> 
> JD: fuck you green we do what we want  
>  FA: I bannedyou already Jona!  
>  JD: yea and it wa? really cute watching you try
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned jargonDelphic [JD2] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: YOUKNOWWHAT??  
>  FA: IM DONE  
>  FA: Idont likethis anymore than the restaya but thereisnt skrill wecando aboutit!  
>  FA: SO HOWBOUT YALL JUST SHUTUP FORBOUT5EFFINSECONDS SOWECAN STOP TALKIN ABOUTIT??  
>  FA: MMKAY?  
>  FA: ...  
>  FA: …Wedone?  
>  FA: Wegoodnow?  
>  FA: (thatwasrhetorical)  
>  FA: …  
>  FA: Faneffintastic.  
>  FA: Oursituation iswhat itis n were gonna haveto takeadvantage aeverythin wecan toget throughit  
>  FA: Thisaint muchdifferent thanwhat wereusedto anyway, soIaint entirelysurewhat allthe fudginfuss isabout.  
>  FA: Wedont haveta likehim tolet theskrill risk hislife for us andtheres alotbiggerthings tobe worryinabout asides.  
>  FA: Sohowbout weall calmdown, getourskrilltogether, and notmake such abigdeal boutthesimplest issuewegot right now.  
>  FA: If weall payattention toafew simplerules, we canmake thiswholething alotlesspainful, okay?  
>  FA: (rhetoricalagain)  
>  FA: Heres the groundrules:  
>  FA: 1. Hes stayinon level3, inthe yellowGuestblock - so dont gothere ifya cantbe civil  
>  FA: 2. *Dont*antagonize him - asmuchas mostaya mightdislike him, weneedhim, and Eri (atleastforthemoment) wants himhere  
>  FA: - DarrnLab, that meansyou! Nopranks whatsoever, yahear me?!
> 
> lethalLeporidae [LL] responded to the memo at 5:24.
> 
> LL: what?! (๑°o°๑) we would never!!!!!!!  
>  LL: Ï can’t BELÏEVE you would say such a thÏng!!!!! how dare you dÏsparage our good name for NO reason!!!  
>  FA: Lab.  
>  LL: yeah ok alrÏght Ï’ll tell hÏm (｀⌒´メ)  
>  FA: Thankyou
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] banned lethalLeporidae [LL] from responding to the memo.
> 
> FA: Thatgoes fortherest ayall too! Idont wannacall yallout individually ifIdonthaveto, sodont makeme!  
>  FA: Iknow yallknow howtobehave yourselves. Weve dealtwith worse before.  
>  FA: So, Rule 3. basicallyjust treathim likeyawould anyother Guest. Ignore/avoidhim if yacan. Nifyoucant... just *please* dont cause anyproblems youcantfix onyourown.
> 
> rhapsodistReciter [RR] responded to the memo at 5:26.
> 
> RR: Wait, Faiyet - I apologize for the inteRRuption, but foR the sake of claRification I must ask - do you mean to say we aRe undeR Visit PRotocol?  
>  RR: Because I must admit I’m not suRe how feasible such a thing is at this moment.  
>  FA: WHATDIDISAYABOUT  
>  FA: Waitno thatsactually avalidquestion, sorryRiz  
>  RR: TheRe is no need foR an apology, Faiyet.  
>  FA: We ARE NOT - currently - under fullVisitProtocols. Theres noneed to tryandstay COMPLETELY hidden  
>  FA: Butweshould probablybe justas cautious as wewould duringaVisit - theGemini is anunknown andwedont wantta setoff anything we canavoid
> 
> intersectedDirection [ID] responded to the memo at 5:28.
> 
> ID: I would concur. From my brief experience †he Gemini does seem †o be inclined †owards rash ou†burs†s of emo†ion, †he cause of which is of†en indiscernible. I† would be bes† †o s†ay on our †oes wi†h him around.  
>  FA: Yes. Iwouldlike toavoid any… situations… foraslong aswe can.  
>  FA: Whichis why Iwant you tokeep aneye onhim Issy.  
>  ID: …  
>  ID: Excuse me, bu† I believe I may have misread your las† pos†?  
>  FA: Youdidnt.  
>  FA: Youretheonlyone Icantrust notto loseit with him, and*someone* needsto watch him.  
>  ID: ...  
>  ID: Very well.  
>  ID: Wha† do you need me †o do?  
>  FA: Justmake sure hedoesnt goanywhere he shouldnt  
>  FA: Or*do* anything heshouldnt.  
>  ID: Or †ha† he does no† see any†hing †ha† he should no†?  
>  FA: Exactly. Weneedto know hesnot messing anythingup while werefocused on figurinout what todo next  
>  RR: Do we even have any clue about wheRe to staRt with that?  
>  ID: Yes, has Eridan said any†hing abou† new plans?  
>  FA: Alittle.  
>  FA: Hestryin to hide it, buthes stillrecovering, so he hasntsaid much yet  
>  ID: Is he worse †han †he las† †ime?  
>  FA: Yesbut youknowwhy.  
>  ID: Is  
>  FA: Issy. Letsnot talkaboutit here.  
>  ID: My apologies. You are correc†. I will hold my ques†ions for a more appropria†e venue.  
>  RR: What has he said?  
>  FA: Notmuch. The currentplan isntto differentfrom ourprevious.  
>  FA: First nforemost wegotta figureout whatsgoinon  
>  FA: Butwe cant dothat if werenot*safe* - so HomeBase Im expectin theshields to *hold* thistime, mmkay?  
>  FA: …  
>  FA: HomeBase?  
>  ID: You banned half †he group several slivers ago, Jonaan †wice, and I do no† believe Bairai or †ryare are curren†ly online.  
>  FA: …
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] unbanned jargonDelphic [JD] from responding to the memo.
> 
> frameworkArmor [FA] unbanned requisiteConnection [RC] from responding to the memo.
> 
> JD: de?pite what the other? ?ay you are not the bo?? of me green  
>  RC: §hut your fucking trap JoDo. §:D
> 
> requisiteConnection [RC] banned jargonDelphic [JD] from responding to the memo.
> 
> RC: Dontcha worry your pretty little head about it FaAu, we’ve got thi§!!  
>  RC: *crack§ knuckle§* Tho§e §hield§’ll Home Ba§e’ll get tho§e §hield§ to §tay up if it’§ the la§t thing I fuckin’ do!

* * *

You lose track of time easily in the ablutionblock. Despite your best efforts to remain unaffected by the extravagance, you keep getting distracted by all the strange devices. The water remains hot the whole time you’re in the standing ablution trap. And you end up staying under the water for a _long_ fucking time (you’ll _never_ admit it, but you try a lot of the different ablution solutions and all of them are fucking amazing).

Eventually, you run out of excuses to avoid your life. With a long groan you finally force yourself to turn off the water and step out of the stall, a struggle harder than it really should be. The floor is unnaturally warm under your feet, and the covering over it is as soft and comfortable as everything else in this fucking place. The walls are beaded with condensation, the mirrors completely fogged over (you prefer them that way - you hate looking at your reflection), and you feel cleaner than you’ve been in your entire existence.

Even the fucking _drycloths_ are amazing. Of _course_ they are. _Fuck_. The fabric is whisper soft and incredibly absorbent, totally unlike the perpetually drenched rags back at your place.

(Again, a feeling of injustice sweeps over you. It’s all so fucking _unfair!_ Why the hell does someone like fucking _Eridork_ get to live in such abject luxury when pissbloods like you have to suffer through scratchy fabric and freezing water, malfunctioning fixtures and broken, ineffective appliances? Why does he deserve this opulence, when you and your ilk are forced to wallow in your own filth, packed tight and rotting like cans of miniwaterbreathers?)

(You already know the answer to that.)

You dry yourself quickly and wrap the cloth around your waist, forcing your temper in check before it makes you do something stupid (like usual). Exiting the ablution block, you step over your old clothing with a disdainful glance. The only thing those rags are good for now is fuel, and you’d rather walk around naked then touch them on again.

(Besides, leaving the pristine and gleaming room a mess behind you helps settle your anger a bit. Fish princess’s place deserves to be messed up a little.)

Back in the main block, a little bit of searching reveals an assortment of clothing in one of the covered shelving units. There’s more spare clothes in one drawer than you’ve owned in your _life_ , and there are at least six full drawers in the unit. You have to take another sliver to close your eyes and hold your breath - forcing down another unhelpful surge of emotion - before you can actually reach in to drag a handful out.

The clothing is styled simply, uniform in shape and color (black and gold) and entirely signless. The things would almost seem cheap and plain, like something you’d find in the bargain bin of the one clothes plant in your hiving unit. But even a passing glance shows that they’re made out of a higher quality material than anything you’ve ever seen before. It’s lightweight; softer even than the drycloths; sleek and shiny in a way you didn’t know fabric could be. It feels like what you’d imagine holding a bit of skyshade might feel like.

Standing there, fingers running absently over the neat stitches and sharp folds, the fabric cool and smooth beneath your hands, you furrow your brow and think. Pushing past your lingering anger and annoyance at this whole ridiculous situation, there’s something more here that’s not _right._ Setting up something like this - a completely furnished block, with clothing, toiletries, a fucking _husktop?!_ \- it’s not easy. It’s not quick, either - and it’s definitely not something a troll would have on hand for any random visitor (on a whole, trolls do not often react well to unannounced visitors).

So why the hell does Eridan have something like this? As far as you can tell, the block doesn’t belong to any of the trolls you’ve seen since you arrived. The few other resting blocks you’ve seen were all thoroughly lived in, with clothes and junk and miscellaneous items strewn all over like a proper troll dwelling - but this one doesn’t even look like it’s been touched before. Everything in this block looks brand new, and all the solutions in the ablution block were full. There aren’t any tags left on the clothing in the shelving unit, but none of them give the feeling that they’ve been worn or washed before, either.

Could this block have been prepared for _you?_ But Eridan hadn’t seemed like he actually expected you (or anyone) to show up. And getting all this stuff together on short notice would be nigh impossible, even with the use of alchemiters. But then again, everything here is in _your colors_ \- maybe not the exact shade, but it’s close enough in hue to count. Though going to this kind of trouble is antithesis of pretty much everything you know about the fish jerk. So why the hell would Eridan have something like this set up? It makes no _sense_.

An abrupt shiver quakes through your system, raising honkbeast bumps on your hide and reminding you about your state of dress - or lack thereof. The main block is colder than the ablution block, and you’ve started shivering from the change in temperature. Shelving your train of thought for later, you grab a set of clothes at random and pull them on.

And curse, because the clothes do not fit you in the slightest.

Scowling, you strip and dig through the drawer a little more carefully, pulling out a few pieces that look more your size. You tug the new clothes on with a series of harsh jerks.

The second set fits somewhat better - at least remaining on instead of pooling at your feet when you let go. They’re long enough for your lanky frame and big enough around for about three of you, but it’s not enough of an issue to go digging through the drawers again. Grabbing a belt from the inside of the shelving units’ door, you use it to secure the pants and call the whole thing a success.

Fresh, clean, in better clothes than you’ve ever had, and something almost resembling well slept, you take a moment to contemplate your next move. Eyeing the door to the hall for a moment, you consider - but, no. You’re not ready to face whatever world shaking revelations might be waiting out there, not yet.

Your spot the husktop out of the corner of your eye and grimace unconsciously. You don’t really feel like facing your… friends, either, but putting off checking in will only make things worse. KK tends to throw an epic fit if any of you don’t check in at least once a night (which makes you wonder if Ampora has contacted him yet - but you shake the thought away; if the fishdick hasn’t checked in, the inevitable fallout is his problem, not yours) and FF, while somewhat gentler about it, can get somewhat tetchy about a lack of contact, too.

(You don’t know _why_ they insist on the constant contact - it’s not like the last time someone fell out of communication you _died_ or anythi- oh wait.)

It’s probably in your best interests to at least let the sorry lusus-minded trolls know you’re still kicking, at least. If nothing else, you can at least check in and make sure nothing monumental has happened while you’ve been… preoccupied.

With a long suffering sigh and an upward roll of your ocular units you trudge to the desk and drop into the wheeled seating device, hitting a button to boot the machine up. On the bright side, this way you can put off thinking about the current Eridan Situation™ for a while and instead just yell at some idiots.

Cheered slightly by the thought, you crack your prongs one by one and shake out your hands. Wriggling your shoulders and popping your vertebral column, you click on the Trollian icon and prepare yourself for an onslaught.

\-- Welcome, twinArmageddons!

> You currently have 1123 unread messages!
> 
> \-- 1069 messages from: carcinoGeneticist [currently online].  
>  \-- 16 messages from: arachnidsGrip [currently offline].  
>  \-- 12 messages from: terminallyCapricious [currently online].  
>  \-- 11 messages from: cuttlefishCuller [currently offline].  
>  \-- 7 messages from: arsenicCatnip [currently offline].  
>  \-- 5 messages from: centuarsTesticle [currently online].  
>  \-- 3 messages from: grimAuxiliatrix [currently offline].

Holy. Fucking. _Shit._

What the hell did you miss?! The last time you had this many messages you’d been offline for a whole perigee, sucked into a spectacular series of coding projects (that particular absence did not end well - KK and AA teamed up, and the resulting discussion had you rather thoroughly convinced not to fall out of contact again). You eye the calendar icon, almost panicked, but it’s only been a cycle since you left your hive and a few hours since you last logged on. So why in the unholy fuck are you suddenly so popular??

A sudden thought flashes through your mind, and a shiver of fear runs down your back. Has… did something happen?

You stare at the screen for a long moment, hovering the cursor back and forth over the names, as dread fills you.

(If something's gone wrong, _again_ , there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to know. There’s only so much shit you can deal with at a time and you currently have quite enough on your meal platter, thanks.)

The unread messages blink tauntingly, and you sneer back, bloodpusher thudding erratically until its thumping is all you can hear.

Fuck it. Your curiosity has always been your worst trait. You’ve got to know.

Holding your breath, you force yourself to click the angrily flashing grey icon. Might as well dive straight in the fucking deep end and get the worst over first.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 4:43 --

> CG: WHAT THE FLYING FUCK IS TAKING YOU SO LONG, CAPTOR?  
>  CG: YOU SAID, AND I QUOTE:  
>  CG: “fuck off kk ii could do thii2 iin my 2leep ju2t giive me liike 2x2 hour2”  
>  CG: WELL, ASSHAT.  
>  CG: GUESS WHAT.  
>  GC: IT’S BEEN FOUR FUCKING HOURS.  
>  CG: WHERE THE HELL ARE MY ROBOTS?  
>  CG: HMMMMMM, CAPTOR??  
>  CG: I’M NOT SEEING ANY FUCKING ROBOTS!  
>  CG: IN FACT, THE SPACE OUTSIDE MY HIVE SEEMS CONSPICUOUSLY ROBOT-LESS.  
>  CG: MUCH LIKE MY CHAT SEEMS CONSPICUOUSLY CAPTOR-LESS.  
>  CG: WHAT, COULDN’T DO IT?  
>  CG: DID YOU FUCKING FAIL? HAS THE MAGNIFICENT SOLLUX CAPTOR, SELF-PROCLAIMED FIRST CLASS HUSKTOP GENIUS, BEEN BROUGHT DOWN BY THE SIMPLE DEMANDS OF A BASIC CODING PROJECT?  
>  CG: I NEVER THOUGHT I’D LIVE TO SEE THE FUCKING DAY!  
>  CG: THAT WAS SARCASM, IN CASE YOU COULDN’T FUCKING TELL.  
>  CG: I *KNEW* YOU COULDN’T FUCKING DO IT!  
>  CG: I TOLD YOU SO!  
>  CG: FUCK, SOLLUX, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?  
>  CG: I AM YOUR GLORIOUS LEADER AND I DEMAND YOU RESPOND!  
>  CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, YOU BULDGEBITING NOOKSLURPER??  
>  CG: ARE YOU TOO BUSY FONDLING YOUR SHAME GLOBES TO TALK TO ME?  
>  CG: CAPTOR. YOU ARE ONLINE. I CAN FUCKING *SEE* IT.  
>  CG: STOP TRYING TO PRETEND YOU AREN’T FUCKING THERE YOU FUCKING FUCKWAD!

The messages are each time-stamped only slivers apart, and they only get more rambling as they go. Luckily, KK apparently finds something else to waste his time on about a unit later, and then it takes him a while before he starts spamming you again.

You subconsciously cover a grin with your spare hand, amused despite yourself at his familiar antics, and scroll past the bullshit till you find something relevant.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 5:10 -- 

> CG: WHAT THE DOUCHEWALLOWING FLYING FUCK SOLLUX!?  
>  CG: WHY IN THE BLUE FUCKING BLAZES ARE YOU FUCKING ACROSS MY SKY LIKE THE HOUNDS OF GOG ARE NIPPING AT YOUR GOGDAMNED HEELS??  
>  CG: …  
>  CG: ARE THE HOUNDS OF GOG AT YOUR FUCKING HEELS?  
>  CG: SOLLUX CAPTOR!  
>  CG: WHERE THE GOBSMACKING FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?!!!!!  
>  CG: ARE YOU FUCKING *LEAVING*?!  
>  CG: FUCKING TWITWAFFLE ASSHAT CAN’T EVEN TAKE A SINGLE SHITTY SLIVER TO SAY A FUCKING WORD!  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING GALLIVANTING ACROSS THE FUCKING UNIVERSE, YOU ASININE MENTAL REJECT??  
>  CG: YOU’RE *SUPPOSED* TO BE WORKING ON THE FUCKING CODE, LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD!  
>  CG: AND YET, HERE YOU ARE INSTEAD, *FLYING* THROUGH THE AIR, NOT A CARE IN THE FUCKING WORLD AS YOU SWAN DIVE THROUGH MY SHITTY VERMILLION COVERED LAND LIKE SOME KIND OF PROFESSIONAL BALLETENDERIST WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A NUMBSUCKING BY-YOUR-FUCKING-LEAVE.  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK, SOLLUX??  
>  CG:  
>  CG: FUCK.  
>  CG: YOU DON’T HAVE A FUCKING PALMHUSK, DO YOU?

Rolling your eyes, you scroll faster, not even bothering to read anything for a while. Once KK gets in a mood there’s really no way about it but to let him rant it out. It takes a few more units before he finally peters off, and you briefly entertain the thought that he might have actually fallen asleep. But, no, that’s unlikely - KK’s even more of an insomniac than you are (you don’t think he’s slept since the game began, actually). More likely he found someone else to harass - or one of the dozen sad sacks still left in this mess of a universe found him.

Well, actually, isn’t precisely accurate anymore, is it? Given all you’ve seen in the last cycle, there’s got to be at least twice that number of trolls still around. Definitely way more than you thought before you landed on this shitty white-washed world. Not that KK would know…

… Or would he?

KK and the flashy fishdouche are weirdly close. They’ve known each other for sweeps, probably longer than most of your other compatriots (you don’t think any of you are entirely sure _how_ exactly they even met - besides FF, maybe, and she’s definitely not telling). Karkat has let enough slip during his frequent rants that they talk _a lot._ The way they talk to each other sometimes, one might think they were pale - but as bad as ED is (and he’s entirely fucking awful) you don’t think he’d sunk quite so low as to cheat on FF… though since the breakup, who knows what the two of them have been up to?

It’s possible Karkat knows all about this already - fishdick certainly seemed to think everyone knew something about what’s been going on.

(Has it only been you left out of the loop?)

A queasy feeling floods your gullet as the thought settles in your mind, but you push the feeling down before it can overtake you. Whatever they do is none of your business - neither of them are _your_ quadrants. Besides, you hate (platonically!!) the arrogant fishfuck - there’s no way you want to get any more involved in his life than you already are.

It’s just - you thought you and KK had something were friends. It’s not like you _care_ , really.

You _don’t._

Forcing yourself to focus back on the chat log, you suppress the growl that wants to rumble out of your throat. It doesn’t matter who knows what or who’s friends with who or whatever - right now isn’t the time for silly distractions like _emotions,_ anyway. There are infinitely more important things to take care of. You’re just here to check in - it’s not like you want to talk about any of the bullshit you’ve been dealing with.

You skip the rest of the messages (you are _not_ bitter, you’re… _efficient_ ), scrolling all the way to the bottom where a new message pops up every few slivers. KK’s active now, aggressively so, and you bite down a groan as you set your hands at the typeboard.

> CG: AND FUCKING NOW!  
>  CG: NOW IS WHEN YOU - PRACTICALLY A SHITTY FUCKING HUSKTOP YOURSELF! - MANAGES TO *LOSE* ANY KIND OF ELECTRONIC COMMUNICATION DEVICE THAT MIGHT LET YOU ACTUALLY RESPOND TO THE IMMENSELY IMPORTANT FUCKING MESSAGES I DEIGN TO GRACE YOUR UNDESERVING LOG WITH.  
>  CG: THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR SUCH COLOSSAL IDIOCY!!! WE’RE UP TO OUR FUCKING BONENUBS IN ENEMY ACTIVITY HERE AND *NOW* IS WHEN YOU DECIDE TO CHECK OUT???  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU CAPTOR?!  
>  TA: we dont have tiime for a lii2t long enough two get iintwo that  
>  CG: CAPTOR?!?!  
>  CG: WHERE THE FUCKING HELL HAVE YOU BEEN YOU FUCKING ASSWIPE??  
>  CG: I’VE BEEN TROLLING YOU FOR FUCKING *UNITS*!  
>  CG: WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCKING NAME OF ARJUNA’S LAST FUCKING STAND HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO THAT COULD *POSSIBLY* BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN RESPONDING TO YOUR FUCKING LEADER??  
>  CG: AND WHY THE *FUCK* WERE YOU DASHING THROUGH OUR PORTALS LIKE TROLL KRAMPUS ON 12TH PERIGEE NIGHT??  
>  TA: whoa there kk  
>  TA: take a chiill piill and calm the fuck down  
>  TA: ii cant an2wer when you flood my log.  
>  CG: WELL FUCK YOU TOO, YOU TWIT HANDLING FUCKWAD!  
>  CG: MAYBE IF YOU STARTED FUCKING *ANSWERING* I COULD STOP FUCKING ASKING!  
>  CG: WHERE THE LUB-NUMBING, CORE-SUCKING, FIRE-FUCKING *HELL* HAVE YOU BEEN??  
>  TA: gog kk dont get your fuckiing kniicker2 iin a twii2t  
>  TA: iit2 not that iimportant kk dont lo2e your fuckiing miind over iit.  
>  CG: OH!!!!!!  
>  CG: “NOT IMPORTANT”??!  
>  CG: *REALLY*???!  
>  CG: SO YOU JUST WHAT, DECIDED TO GO FUCKING GALLIVANTING ACROSS OUR WORLDS WITH NARY-A-FUCKING WORD, FALL OUT OF CONTACT WITH EVERYONE FOR ALMOST A FULL FUCKING CYCLE, AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF IS “kk dont lo2e your fuckiing miind over iit”?  
>  CG: WELL ISN’T THAT JUST A FUCKING RELIEF!  
>  CG: NOW THAT CAPTOR, GENIUS EXTRAORDINAIRE HAS SAID SO, I GUESS I HAVE NO FUCKING CHOICE BUT TO JUST LET IT ALL GO! NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT HERE, NO FUCKING SIR!  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?  
>  TA: kk ju2t 2hut the fuck up youre embarra22iing your2elf.  
>  TA: ii dont need two tell you anythiing youre not my fuckiing lu2u2  
>  TA: there wa2 ju2t 2ome 2hiit ii had two do and iit took a little longer than antiiciipated.  
>  CG: DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, YOU INSANE FUCKTARD!!  
>  TA: ugh iim here now why are you makiing thii2 2uch a biig deal?  
>  CG: FUCK YOU CAPTOR.  
>  CG: TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU COULD POSSIBLY BE DOING WHERE YOU COULDN’T ANSWER A SINGLE DAMN MESSAGE FOR 20 FUCKING UNITS?!  
>  TA: 2tuff.  
>  CG: STUFF?!?!?!?!?!?!?!  
>  CG: FUCKING STUFF??!! THAT’S YOUR FUCKING ANSWER?!?!  
>  TA: ii dont have two tell you everythiing ii do you fucker.  
>  TA: iit2 none of your bu2iine22 kk 2o ju2t let iit GO  
>  TA: iim here now alright?? what2 iit fuckiing matter where ii wa2??  
>  CG: OH I DON’T FUCKING KNOW?  
>  CG: MAYBE WE FUCKING NEEDED YOU FOR SOMETHING IMPORTANT, YOU LITTLE NOX FUCKER?!  
>  TA: well diid you??  
>  CG: …  
>  CG: NO  
>  CG: BUT THAT’S NOT THE FUCKING POINT!  
>  CG: BESIDES, DIDN’T IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU SOME OF US MIGHT BE A LITTLE FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT YOU DISAPPEARING FOR *UNITS* WHEN THE LAST TIME IT HAPPENED YOU FUCKING *DIED*??  
>  CG: I  
>  CG: PEIXES WAS GOING FUCKING SHIT HIVE MAGGOTS OVER YOUR SORRY ASS!  
>  CG: SHE WOULDN’T STOP TROLLING ME, BEGGING ME TO TRACK YOU DOWN LIKE I’M SOME KIND OF TROLL LIAM NEESON AND YOU’RE MY HELPLESS LITTLE GRUB, ABDUCTED BY MALEVOLENT FORCES I HAVE TO TRACK DOWN AND FUCKING OBLITERATE.  
>  TA: yeah 2ure *ff* wa2 worriied 2URE.  
>  CG: FUCK YOU CAPTOR! SHE FUCKING WAS!  
>  TA: uh huh  
>  TA: that2 why ii have 11 me22age2 from her and over 1000 from you.  
>  CG: JUST WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO INSINUATE HERE, CAPTOR?  
>  TA: whatever kk  
>  TA: iim here now alriight?  
>  TA: what the fuck ii2 2o gogdamn iimportant?  
>  CG: YOU FUCKING MINDLESS TWIT WAFFLER!  
>  CG: I AM YOUR FUCKING LEADER AND YOU NEED TO SHOW ME SOME FUCKING RESPECT, YOU USELESS IMP. I’M THIS CLOSE TO BEING DONE WITH YOU UNTIL YOU GET A FUCKING ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT, YOU NITWICKING DIPSHIT!  
>  TA: but you wont.  
>  CG: FUCK YOU.  
>  TA: yeah youve 2aiid that already. liike, 20 tiime2  
>  TA: but you know what?  
>  TA: we do thii2 every fuckiing tiime  
>  TA: 2o how bout thii2 tiime we ju2t 2kiip the fuckiing po2turiing and get two the fuckiing poiint wiithout all thii2 unnece22ary bull2hiit  
>  TA: ju2t thii2 once?  
>  CG: …  
>  CG: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?  
>  TA: gog kk!  
>  TA: there2 nothiing wrong!  
>  TA: ii ju2t dont have tiime for your u2ual bull2hiit riight now  
>  TA: ii know you dont actually know what iit2 liike two have real fuckiing re2pon2iibiiliitiie2 but iive got 2hiit two do  
>  TA: 2o ii repeat  
>  TA: what the fuck do you want?  
>  CG: …  
>  CG: OH, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE “real fuckiing re2pon2iibiiliitiie2” DO I??!  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I’M TRYING TO DO HERE WITH KEEPING YOU FUCKING ASSWIPES ALIVE??  
>  TA: kk  
>  CG: THIS ISN’T A FUCKING WALK IN THE COMMUNAL LAWN RING HERE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.  
>  CG: I’M YOUR FUCKING *LEADER*!! YOU CAN’T KEEP SHIT LIKE THIS FROM ME.  
>  TA: kk  
>  CG: BUT I DON’T NEED YOU TO TELL ME - I’LL FIND OUT WHAT YOU’RE UP TO ON MY FUCKING OWN.  
>  CG: SO I’LL GRACIOUSLY ALLOW YOU TO TRY AND KEEP YOUR SHITTY LAME SECRETS FOR NOW AND MOVE ON TO THE ORIGINAL TOPIC I CONTACTED YOU ABOUT, BECAUSE I AM A FUCKING *SAINT* AND WAY MORE FORGIVING THAN YOU DESERVE.  
>  TA: kk  
>  CG: DID YOU HAPPEN TO, IN ALL YOUR FROLICKING AND SECRECY, JUST, I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE MANAGE TO FINISH UP THAT LITTLE, ITTY BITTY BIT OF CODE YOU PROMISED ME?  
>  CG: I KNOW IT MIGHT HAVE SLIPPED YOUR MIND, BEING SO VERY UNIMPORTANT AND ALL, BUT WE *ARE* STILL HAVING A PROBLEM WITH THE ENEMY FUCKING SWARMING OUR GATES - NOT THAT THEY SEEMED TO BE ANY KIND OF FUCKING IMPEDIMENT TO YOU IN YOUR WORLD CROSSING TRIP OR ANYTHING.  
>  TA: fuck.

Oh shit.

Oh _fuck._ The code.

The fucking _code._ For the ROBOTECTORS. The ROBOTECTORS that most of your friends actually need to be able to leave their hives. That you’d finished and were about to send off. That you left on your husktop ten fucking worlds away.

Fuck.

You’re the biggest fucking idiot.

It’s you.

You slap a hand over your eyes and drag it down your face, leaning forward and groaning heavily. _Fuck._

Fuck fuck fuck fuckity _fuck -_

_How can you be such a fucking idiot all of your friends are going to die because you are such a fucking idiot it’s happening_ again -

Shaking your head violently, you slap both cheeks _hard_ and banish your self-loathing.

Okay. Fuck.

Alright. _Fuck!_

Get it the fuck together, Captor!

You can fix this. Fuck it.

You _can._

Straightening, you rake your claws through your hair, dragging the still wet strands back out of your eyes. Dropping your hands back to the typeboard, you frantically search the applications on the husktop. It has to be there - it _has_ to -

There!

Black and white, stark against the grey screen, the ~ATH program blinks at you.

One eye fixed to the chat, you boot up the program and start typing. Your claws clack noisily over the keys as you maneuver your way through the relatively simple code necessary to accomplish what you need.

> CG: *FUCK*?  
>  TA: ye2. fuck.  
>  CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN “fuck"??  
>  TA: ...  
>  CG: WHAT THE HELL, SOLLUX?!  
>  CG: SOLLUX.  
>  CG: TELL ME YOU DIDN’T FUCKING FORGET ABOUT THIS.  
>  TA: okay  
>  TA: ii diidnt fuckiing forget about thii2.

(The chat goes silent for a sliver, and you’re pretty sure KK is flipping his shit at the other end of the connection. Maybe even literally.)

> CG: YOU HAD ONE. FUCKING. JOB.  
>  CG: YOU FUCKING IMPOTENT BULGE-BLISTERING NICKER-WHITTER!!!  
>  CG: WHAT THE GOGDAMN HELL SOLLUX!! YOU SAID YOU HAD IT UNDER CONTROL!  
>  TA: ii diid! ii do!  
>  TA: ju2t  
>  TA: giive me two 2econd2 two get at iit  
>  CG: DID YOU EVEN FUCKING START IT???!!  
>  TA: calm your 2hiitty nub2 kk and giive me two fuckiing 2econd2  
>  CG: WHAT THE HELL SOLLUX!! THIS IS FUCKING IMPORTANT SHIT!!  
>  CG: THE INSOLVENTS SWARMING OUR GATES MIGHT NOT BE AN ISSUE FOR YOU AND YOUR FUCKING MAGIC POWERS BUT SOME OF US ARE A LITTLE BIT STUCK UNDER A PILE OF ROTTING BEHEMOTH SHIT ON A SWELTERING DAY IN THE MIDDLE OF LIGHT SEASON WITHOUT A WAY AROUND THESE FUCKING ASSAILANTS!!!  
>  TA: ii fuckiing know kk!  
>  TA: and ii diid fuckiing fiinii2h iit!  
>  CG: OH REALLY NOW???  
>  TA: really!!  
>  CG: THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS THE PROBLEM, HUH? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU FREAKING OUT??? WHY ARE YOU MAKING *ME* FREAK OUT???  
>  TA: there2 no problem!  
>  CG: THEN WHERE’S THE FUCKING CODE SOLLUX??  
>  TA: uh  
>  CG: UH?  
>  TA: iit miight be po22iible that ii miight have left iit on my hu2ktop.  
>  TA: aaaand iit miight al2o be po22iible ii miight have left my hu2ktop at my hiive.  
>  TA: where iit ii2 entiirely po22iible ii am not currently at  
>  TA: po22iibly.  
>  CG: WHAT THE HELL??

A desperate cascade of keystrokes and frantic clicking later and you're finally looking at a mirrored version of your husktop. It’s lucky now you didn’t have time in your mad rush out to shut it off like you normally, or this whole endeavor might be slightly more difficult. You maximize the window, covering up the chat, and in just a few slices you’ve located the files. Downloading them to your current device takes a little longer, but all in all, barely four slivers have passed before you have the whole thing zipped and ready.

Closing out the window brings up the chat screen, now filled top to bottom in rolling gray caps.

You don’t bother to read any of it.

> twinArmageddons [TA] sent file “2hutthefuckup.zip” to carcinoGeneticist [CG].
> 
> TA: calm the fuck down kk LOOK  
>  TA: here2 the fuckiing fiile2 you flamiing diick  
>  CG: THE FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING LOG-MUNCHING FUCK KNOCKER??  
>  CG: ASIDE FROM THE FUCKING OBVIOUS?! WHAT THE HELL IS Y  
>  CG: WAIT  
>  CG: WHAT  
>  TA: ii thiink the word2 youre lookiing for are ‘thank you’  
>  CG: NO FUCK YOU  
>  CG: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU  
>  CG: THIS IS  
>  CG: YOU SAID YOU LEFT THIS ON YOUR FUCKING HUSKTOP CAPTOR WHAT THE FUCK?!  
>  CG: WERE YOU FUCKING MESSING WITH ME YOU FUCKING INSOLUBLE PUNK?!?  
>  TA: iim not!  
>  TA: ii diid leave iit on my hu2ktop  
>  CG: THEN WHERE THE FUCK DID THIS COME FROM???  
>  TA: iim ju2t that talented  
>  CG: NO FUCK YOU!  
>  CG: THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!!  
>  TA: excu2e you??  
>  CG: I SAID FUCK YOU!!!!  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN DOING THAT COULD POSSIBLY SEPARATE YOU FROM YOUR PRECIOUS HUSKTOP??  
>  CG: IN ALL THE SWEEPS I’VE KNOWN YOU, NOTHING HAS EVER BEEN ABLE TO TEAR YOU FROM THAT FUCKING BRICK OF ELECTRONIC SPASMS - YOU’VE ALWAYS TREATED IT LIKE YOU’D DIE WITHOUT IT!  
>  CG: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED THAT IS SO IMPORTANT IT COULD PULL YOU AWAY FROM SOMETHING SO FUCKING ESSENTIAL TO YOUR SHITTY SURVIVAL?  
>  TA: iit2 none of your bu2iine22 kk  
>  CG: AND HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU CONTACTING ME IF YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR FUCKING HUSKTOP, HUH? I KNOW THIS ISN’T YOUR PALMHUSK, YOU SHIT NOZZLE.  
>  CG: WHAT, DID YOU FIND SOME KIND OF ELECTRONIC PARADISE OUT IN THE FAR REALMS, LIKE SOME KIND OF FICTIONAL HUSKTOP MESSIAH?  
>  CG: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, SOLLUX??  
>  TA: fuck you kk ii dont need two explaiin my2elf two you  
>  TA: ii dont need you fuckiing moniitoriing my actiion2 kk youre not my fuckiing lu2u2  
>  TA: ii can take care of MY2ELF.  
>  CG: NO YOU FUCKING *CAN’T*!! THE LAST TIME I LET YOU TAKE CARE OF THINGS YOURSELF YOU WENT AND FUCKING DIED!!!  
>  TA: …  
>  TA: fuck you kk.  
>  TA: FUCK YOU  
>  CG: FUCK  
>  CG: WAIT SOLLUX I DIDN’T MEAN IT  
>  TA: you fuckiing 2aiid iit.  
>  CG: SOLLUX  
>  TA: yeah ii really dont need two deal wiith thii2 riight now.  
>  CG: SOLLUX  
>  TA: iim out.  
>  CG: SOLLUX WAIT!

\-- twinArmageddeons [TA] blocked carcinoGenetisist [CG] \--

> CG: FUCK!

Yeah, _no._

Breathing heavily, you close the chat, no longer willing to look at the stupid accusations filling the screen. There’s no fucking way you’re sticking around to get reamed out ( _again_ ) by the most aggravating troll in the whole fucking universe. You don’t have the time ~~or constitution~~.

The reminder of your death makes your thinkpan throb, and on the edge of your conscious you hear the tickle of the doomed. Tense as a rock, you shake your head violently in an attempt to forcefully quiet the destructive thoughts flooding your mind. KK’s a fucking douchebag, which isn’t news, but right now you can’t manage to summon even an ounce of the patience required to deal with him. There’s way too much on your mealplatter right now to add any of Vantas’ shit.

Moving to shut down Trollian, you hesitate, cursor hovering over the ‘x’.

It’s tempting to leaves the rest of the messages for later (or, preferably, never) - but realistically, you know that ignoring it will only make things worse when you’re eventually forced to deal with them. And there’s no doubt in your mind that you will be - unfortunate experience tells you there’s no escaping any of the asshole trolls you’ve been stuck enduring this shitty apocalypse with.

Ugghhh _hhhh._

Besides, you still have to send this fucking code to at least one more troll before you can be done with the shitty whole project, no matter how much you don’t want to. It wouldn’t do to lecture KK about responsibility and neglect your own - that would only come back to bite you in the ass. And it’s not like you can trust your fucking ‘leader’ to pass it on - he’s a goddamn idiot.

Which means you might as well get it over with now.

Reluctantly, you click on the flashing blue text and scroll to the bottom, actively ignoring all the waiting messages as you start typing. You couldn’t give less of a shit about anything he has to say, and the only way this conversation won’t end in complete disaster is getting it done as quickly as possible.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling centuarsTesticle [CT] at 5:40 --

> TA: hey fuckface.  
>  TA: how bout you 2top fondliing your fuckiing robot2 for a hot fuckiing 2liiver.  
>  TA: iive got your fuckiing code  
>  CT: D --> Lowb100d  
>  CT: D --> So you’ve finally managed to seperate yourself from the muck long enough to actually respond to your superiors  
>  TA: 2hut up  
>  TA: iim not iin the mood two deal wiith your 2peciifiic brand of fuckiing 2tupiidiity.  
>  CT: D --> Ah, I see you are still unable to rise above your pathetic b100d status  
>  CT: D --> You are just as uncouth and crude as ever  
>  CT: D --> How unfortunate  
>  TA: 2hut the fuck up you di2gu2tiing excu2e for a troll!  
>  TA: there2 2o much wrong wiith you how the fuck can anyone 2tand two fuckiing talk two you??  
>  CT: D --> I see that respect for your betters is still beyond your capabilities, though I will not let such a coarse manner marr my own civility; thus, I will remark only that I believe this to be a perfect instance of what you lowb100ds refer to as ‘the seepingdevice calling the whistleholder black’  
>  CT: D --> Though I must confess I have no idea what’s occurred to render you in such a disagreeable attitude  
>  CT: D --> But I suppose such behavior is an unfortunate drawback of the disgusting swill that runs through your veins  
>  TA: fuck you youre 2uch a fuckiing douche how has no one culled you yet?  
>  TA: and FUCK you  
>  TA: you know EXACTLY what you diid you FUCKER!!!!

_Fuck._

This is why you wanted to do this quickly, with as little interaction as possible. It’s only been two slivers, and you’re already losing it. You meant to drop in, fire off a few insults, and send the code. You _wanted_ to honor AA’s wishes and let her take care of this on her own, like she asked.

But you _can’t_.

~~You’ve never been able to leave things well enough alone.~~  

> TA: what the hell are you tryiing two do wiith aa  
>  CT: D --> I  
>  CT: D --> I have no idea what you are referring to  
>  TA: bull2hiit!!  
>  TA: you know exactly what iim fuckiing talkiing about!  
>  TA: you dont de2erve two even fuckiing be iin her pre2ence you fuckiing piiece of 2HIIT  
>  TA: let alone fuckiing *touch* her!!  
>  CT: D -->  
>  CT: D --> You dare to speak to me in such a manner, lowb100d scum?  
>  CT: D --> What right do *you* have to even care about such things, anyway?  
>  CT: D --> Considering how your last interaction with the rustb100d ended

_How dare he._

You blink, and come back to your senses to find your prongs cramped around the clicker, screen blank and cursor blinking mockingly. Time feels warped - a little bit loose and wiggly, but you’re not actually that concerned. This isn’t the first time you’ve lost a couple moments. When you get angry (or upset, or go through any kind of intense emotion, really) your thinking-mind checks out and your subconscious takes over. Sometimes nothing comes of it, and sometimes you find yourself in a different area than where you started, exhausted and sore, but nothing has happened that’s been as bad as the first time _~~aradia-~~_ so you can’t bring yourself to care too much about it.

This time, you spit out a few lines of furious text full of enough capitalization to make Karkat envious, followed by a truly impressive amount of swearing, even for you. Then you blocked the blue-blooded musclebeast fucker in the middle of whatever idiotic response he was inevitably going to make and punched the typeboard, shockingly not even managing to so much as dent it.

All in all, nothing you haven’t have done before.

Still, you force yourself to breathe deeply for several slivers until it stops feeling like you’re slices from an aneurysm. Pulling your hands from the husktop is almost physically painful, but you shake them out until the feeling fades and very deliberately don’t think about anything the asshole said. _Fuck_ that guy.

You bump the mouse to bring the screen back to life and your ocular units catch on KK’s screen name, crossed out and dull. Abruptly you’re reminded of _why_ you were trying to talk to the shitty highblood in the first place.

Fuck.

Dropping your head onto the desk accomplishes nothing beyond jarring your ocular guard device and causing a throbbing to start up in your thinkpan. The pain combines with the sharp discomfort of annoyance threading your brain case and mutates together into a truly spectacular migraine. It does nothing to help you solve your current problem.

You need to send the ROBOTECTOR code to the blueblooded musclebeast fucker. And soon. If you don’t, KK will somehow _know_ \- and through sheer hornbeast-headed stubbornness alone he’ll figure out a way to make it your fucking problem. KK’s lack of actual ability in, well, _everything_ , somehow pales in comparison to the level of annoyingness he can reach when truly pissed off (if you weren’t too old for shit like that, you might chalk it up to magic).

But there’s no _fucking_ way you’re unblocking that sweaty fucker right now. Not for anything. Not even to avoid KK’s irrevocable rage.

Groaning, you roll your head to the side and stare dully at the blinking lights of Trollian. Maybe you can just ignore your problems until they go away. No one would ever think to look for you in Ampora’s hive, and you’re sure you can figure out a way to barricade yourself in…

The still unread messages flash garishly in an attempt to grab your attention, but there’s no way you can handle GZ’s ramblings or the spiderbitch’s cackling right now. Even KN’s well meaning concern or NP’s cheerfulness would be way too -

Wait.

_Nepeta._

NP and the blue fucker are _moirails._ Which means she (somehow) manages to be in regular contact with that hideous excuse for a troll. If you send her the code, she’ll be able to get it to the muscle bound idiot. And, bonus, she’s not even online! You can send her a message with the link and sign the fuck off before you end up in anymore arguments.

It’s the  _perfect plan._

You skim her previous messages as you start typing.

\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 5:47 --  

> AC: :33 < *ac looks up from devouring her purrey, startled by the sounds of fighting over her den*  
>  AC: :33 < *the screams of the enemy ring pleasantly in her ears as she s33s red and blue flashes arc aclawss the sky*  
>  AC: :33 <*ac purrs in catisfaction at the violent deaths as she purriously eyes the flying troll*  
>  AC: :33 < *ac recognizes the darting troll surrounded by sparkling lights and wriggles in excitement*  
>  AC: :33 < Sollux!! *ac yowls happily, purrleased to s33 one of her furrends*  
>  AC: =33 < *ac bounds away from her victim and towards her den, wondering why her furrend is visiting*  
>  AC: }33 < *but by the time ac reaches her hive, the mysterious figure has vanished!* Sollux??

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC] at 6:23 --

> TA: hey np  
>  [arsenicCatnip [AC] is offline and will not see this message immediately]  
>  TA: iive got a real quiick favor two a2k  
>  [arsenicCatnip [AC] is offline and will not see this message immediately]  
>  TA: could you 2end thii2 fiile two... your moiiraiil for me  
>  twinArmageddons [TA] sent file “2hutthefuckup.zip” to arsenicCatnip [AC]  
>  [arsenicCatnip [AC] is offline and will not see this message immediately]  
>  TA: iit2 the codes for the ROBOTECTOR2  
>  [arsenicCatnip [AC] is offline and will not see this message immediately]  
>  TA: iif you could do that iit would be fuckiing fanta2tiic and ii would totally owe you two  
>  [arsenicCatnip [AC] is offline and will not see this message immediately]  
>  TA: iill catch up wiith you properly later ok  
>  [arsenicCatnip [AC] is offline and will not see this message immediately]  
>  TA: thank2

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC] at 6:26 --

That done, you log off before anyone else manages to see you’re online. The last couple of chats have left you in even less of a mood to socialize than usual, and you can’t handle getting caught up in another pointless (or even point _ful_ ) argument right now.

You push the wheeled seating device away from the desk as the screen goes black and flex your vertebral column as straight as it will go. It isn’t far, and a loud cracking noise ensues, making you wince and rub at the offending area. The stretch brings you back to yourself a bit, and you’re forcefully reminded of the state of your body. Most pressingly, that you’re starving. On cue, your feed storage unit lets out a loud growl to protest its empty state.

Making a face, you wrap an arm around your midsection, hoping the pressure will force the ache to subside. It doesn’t, and you reluctantly acknowledge that you’re actually going to have to do something about it.

A glance at the time telling device shows it’s been a few units since you first woke up, making it late enough that it’s slightly more reasonable to expect other trolls to be up. Which is good, because there isn’t any food in this block, and based on your experience last day it’s unlikely you’d be able to find anything in this hive on your own.

Another groan escapes as you force yourself out of the wheeled sitting device and then out of the room entirely, not letting yourself pause at the door. As much as you’d love to keep yourself hidden in this block until all your problems have either resolved themselves or disappeared, it seems your traitorous body isn’t going to let you.

There’s no fucking way you're mentally recovered enough to deal with any of the shit waiting outside the door, but it’s not like you’ve got much choice ( ~~do you ever?~~ ). You have to venture out of this block to find some food, and you’re just going to have to fucking deal with whatever shit you find along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! Hopefully, this is at least somewhat satisfactory after the long wait. I will try my best not to take as long with the next chapter, but I am hesitant to make any promises after this long delay.
> 
> Please let me know if any of the typing quirks I made up are too difficult to understand - I'm still getting used to them, and they can always be changed. In addition, let me know if you'd rather I used made up troll terms for things, or if I should stick to straight English. Every time I think I've made a decision I end up changing my mind.
> 
> Also, on, a related-but-seems-like-it's-not note, please let me know your favorite video game quests and riddles/rhymes! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!
> 
> PREVIEW:  
>  _“Qetzal!” the troll shouts through the door, voice high pitched and still on the edge of childish, “C’mon! It’s time for breakfast!”_
> 
> _There’s a moment of silence, and you walk closer, careful not to make too much noise. Then another voice responds, slightly muffled but equally as squeaky. “Just a second! I’m almost ready!”_
> 
> _The troll outside the door leans forward, and as you get closer you can see that it’s a girl, and she’s rolling her eyes as she answers. “That’s what you said last time I came by!” She lets out another huff of air, rocking forward on the balls of her feet. “Breakfast time is almost over, and most everyone’s come and gone already!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Alexander Pope's poem Eloisa to Abelard


End file.
